The Failed Pun

skin&ink

donna — Sun, 13 Sep 2009 13:23:17 +0000

A few disclaimers up front: this may not shock you, nor is it particular original, but I secretly wish I had a tattoo. Nothing lame like a Celtic pretzel on the small of my back ( did I just lose 90% of my readership?), but something delicate and feminine and wonderfully specific. On the pale white skin of my forearm. Right there, for people to see as they look over the wall of my cubicle as I aggressively delete abused apostrophes.

I may not want a lame tattoo, but I’ve come to realise that I have lame reasons for wanting a tattoo. Reasons that should (and do, and will continue to) technically bar my entry into the demographic of the tatted.

The biggest reason is I want to look as hard core and alternative as I feel inside. Sure I work in a cubicle, but I’m vegan! Sure I wear a lot of navy blue, but I write angry letters to corporations about the exploitation of the female body in advertising! Sure you might have seen me at Woolworths, but I mostly forage for herbs in the park next door. With my bare teeth.

I guess I sometimes feel like I need to help people pigeon hole me, so I’m easier to understand. If I had a few more piercings and a couple of tattoos, they wouldn’t screw up their eyes and frown when I share my more private (and less external) ideosyncracies. They’d be able to classify me immediately, and there would be less chance of me offending any sensibilities, because I’d just be one of those people. See what I mean? Lame!

And fortuitously, to keep me from making a dumb decision is this thought: although I don’t doubt for a second that the biker demographic earned their rattlesnakes, eagles and pole-dancers through a lifetime of hard knocks out on the open road, (or more specifically, Blaauberg Road in Tableview at 3am in the morning), it would be easy enough for the most unlikely of unlikelies to walk in to the parlour, page through the catalogue, pick the meanest lookin’ scorpion they can find, part with the cash and walk out looking at least 5 times fiercer than they probably are. And frankly, that’s cheating. Have I gone through life respecting people who look way more hardcore than they are? Absolutely.

My husband who loves my forearm the way it is, reminds me when this comes up (and it comes up surprisingly regularly – Friday afternoon, after work, when I’m feeling a little like I’ve sold out to The Man), that you can’t fake alternative. Alternative is as alternative does.

Stern, but true.

28/07/09

donna — Wed, 29 Jul 2009 19:06:44 +0000

On Friday night we had a date at a new restaurant opposite the Lifestyle centre called Hudson-something-something. They have two veg burger options on the menu so that is what we had. The burgers were both tasty, good portions and at good prices, and the chips were excellent, and the salad had freaking pine nuts and artichokes in it, people, but that is not what made my evening. What made my evening was the Monster Hits album they were playing, nice and loudly – including the likes of Informer, Bad Bad Boys, Let’s Get Sexual, and the infamous A La La La La Long ( I’m not sure that’s the real title). Incredibly formative in my pre-adolescence. It made me remember shuffling my feet, in the circle with all the other girls at Lyneale Cowie’s house in 1996, feeling like there was no hope for me because I absolutely could not master that two step left to right dance move. Somewhat cathartic, because as a 25 year old, it’s really, really easy to get down and ironic-boogie with your husband in a public space to Let’s Get Sexual.

***

We have been cat-and-house sitting in Gardens for two weeks and when it’s sunny we walk everywhere. Being a pedestrian is therapy for me. Moving around the city unfettered by a car and the stresses of driving as a 25 year old girl with no real grip on the physics of traffic, is a big relief. To not have your day structured by planning around traveling time produces a completely different lifestyle. It’s an architectural issue I hear. I hope to be a much nicer person at the end of all this! Let me know how I’m doing!

***

Work is okay – it’s feeling a little under-stimulating. A Lot Under-Stimulating. My new (ish) job keeps me cubicle bound, and while there are so many good things about it, it’s not really me. I am longing for work that is really me, but I don’t know if it’s for all the right reasons. I tend to degenerate into a funk sometimes when I think about how I don’t have a real career – Doctor, Lawyer, Farmer, Professional Hip Hop Dancer, Pilates Instructor – because it feels like it means my efforts at self-improvement don’t go any where specific, they just diffuse. Doing this honours degree is an effort to refine my skills a little further, but who am I kidding? English majors are a proverbial dime a proverbial dozen. When Charl’s finished his Masters, maybe I’ll sign up for a 6 month diploma in something that will mean I can insert one, self contained noun at the end of this sentence: Hi, I’m a …

***

I invited a whole lot of people to come an watch an old Spanish Art Film with us in the evening after our date, and when nobody was able to make it I was quite disappointed – but it turns out to have been a Total Act of God that nobody could make it, because it was one of the most depressing, you-are-clearly-a-philistine-and-unable-to-decode-the-semiotics-of-Spanish-cinema, depressing and did I say depressing films we’ve ever sat through. Thanks for sparing us the humiliation of being the people that picked the film everyone hated, again, everybody!

***

I really like De Waal Park. And I keep seeing people from E-TV everywhere. It’s like they’re following me – investigative reporting? Gardens/Oranjezicht/Tamboerskloof/Vredehoek is totally the shiz. And we live next to a pretty impressive pair of artists.

sunday afternoon

donna — Sun, 07 Jun 2009 15:53:17 +0000

I get depressed on Sundays often. Growing up, Sundays were pretty unpleasant for me and I am sure plenty of people know what I’m talking about. The fight about what I may and may not wear to church, church, and then the numbing nothingness of Sunday afternoon – with Monday morning and school rapidly approaching. Geez!

Today I medicated myself with a 3km walk along the beach in the sun. Exercise and sunshine are such a reliable remedy for me – I am always mad at myself for not thinking of it sooner.
***
It’s been a really busy two months or so. I handed in two essays for my Hons. course last weekend, one on one of the Canterbury Tales and one on Middlemarch. I am beginning to think this degree is a mistake. It took so much to generate those two, and I barely made the deadline. (Also, they were entirely inconsequential. I’m not expecting to be footnoted or cited or anything). There are about 6 more before October. But the 19th century literature is like a satisfying dessert.
***
I got my hair cut on Thursday last week at HAND. The guy who was cutting my hair wore a beanie until I asked him to remove it – (I just wanted an indication of his trustworthiness). Further complications were that he was wearing a tight white Ed Hardy teeshirt with a gemstone skull on it, and had a tattoo on his forearm in cursive that said sixty nine. For some, that would have clinched the deal, but I was uncertain. It turned out well though. I look like I did when I was dating my husband, as a nineteen year old. It’s a nice feeling.
***
Yesterday when we were walking along the beachfront, we passed two people drinking out of paper cups and talking – the lady called out to us and asked us if we wanted some Chai for our walk. She was American, and he looked Middle Eastern and he was holding what looked like a Koran or something, and the combination of free Chai and the Koran immediately registered on my radar as a potential threat to my morning walk – my knee jerk reaction was to say no thanks and avoid a long discussion where Islam or whatever was for sale. Thankfully, the lady engaged us (it turns out we knew her vaguely from the bus) and I was spared the opportunity to indulge my prejudices. They weren’t connected – the Koran guy had also been offered Chai and was just chatting to Sarah, who is a yoga instructor from California. I’ve met her several times in the last year and she is always remarkable – full to the brim of the best type of confidence and so friendly. Her Chai was tasty and it was really wonderful to stand in the sun with two other humans who were completely different to us. She was there trying to get rid of the last bit of her big urn full of the Chai she makes for her Saturday morning students. We chatted a bit about yoga – I got her card, which had a picture of Ganesh on it. I asked her if she was Hindu – and then kicked myself for wanting to classify her with a word. She joked with me and called herself ‘undo’, not Hindu. She’s offering a really good deal – a hundred bucks for limitless classes over a ten day period. But I am afraid of yoga.
***

Origin in Hudson Street

donna — Fri, 08 May 2009 19:41:36 +0000

I often find myself wishing I had a teeshirt that said ‘I liked [insert applicable trend] before it was popular’. I would need a few rooms devoted to shelving these babies because 1. I like a lot of popular things, and 2. I am lame like that.

I know that Origin is not new, and that it’s kind of (plenty) yuppie, but there are a lot of things about it which I like to think only I appreciate. Like I have superior motives for liking it compared with your average wannabe hobo trend-devotee.

Usually cunningly disguised as a wallflower, I sit in the corner to people watch from behind my book and drink my…black coffee. I feel embarrassed about calling it by its Italian name,

The Mississipi Delta was shining like a National Guitar

donna — Mon, 13 Apr 2009 08:35:18 +0000

It sure is fantastic to go out on the balcony at my new workplace and not consider climbing down the drainpipe and high-tailing it outta there, like my previous balcony. Yep, life is good again. It makes such a difference to be working with adults who are chilled out and not, I don’t know PSYCHOTIC. Work is a sigh of relief these days. I intend for it to stay that way and so I have filled my assigned drawer with herbal tea and raisins and hand cream and little vials of essential oil and other treasures to amuse me throughout the day. Hurray!

***

In other news, I am arm wrestling with Geoffrey Chaucer and losing badly. My first assignment is due on 1 June, but they have suggested that I should try for the middle of April. Which is in two days time, and is not going to happen. Puh-leeze. I’m doing my essay on the Franklin’s Tale, in the Canterbury Tales, and although it’s definitely an engaging tale and I won’t be bored while I write the essay, I am feeling rather overwhelmed by the universe of secondary readings out there. Eek!

***

Last night we went to listen to my friend Stephen Murray preach on the 20th chapter of John’s gospel, where old doubtin’ Thomas has his mind changed about his doubts. Poor Thomas usually gets hated on for his skepticism, but the flip side of that is that once he’d had his doubts assuaged, he believes wholeheartedly and calls Jesus his Lord and God. Doubt is legitimate, and if it means you engage with something more critically, when your doubts are satisfied, it frees you to believe wholeheartedly.

***

Today we started the day with a cashew-pineapple smoothie. I soaked the cashews overnight in water, and blended about half a cup of cashews with a sweet medium pineapple, and the freshly extracted juice of 3 golden delicious apples, as well as about a tablespoon of fragrant, virgin coconut oil. Then we did the hula and made leis. Ha! No, but we should have, because it was wonderfully tropical. It should last me until lunch too.

***

Now I’m going to hang up the laundry with Paul Simon.

The End of an Era

donna — Tue, 31 Mar 2009 07:28:29 +0000

Tomorrow I start a new job, and today I finish an old one.

It feels rather peculiar.

We started the day optimistically, with a green smoothie of baby spinach, apple, cucumber, banana and flax seeds, really filling and energizing.

We left for work this morning before the sun rose, at about twenty to seven. It’s become dark so quickly and it’s just the beginning of autumn. I am feeling rather cowardly about what the rest of winter will be like. Getting up in the dark is extremely difficult for me. I even battle to dress myself if the sun isn’t up – you can’t make decisions about what to wear in the dark!

We went in the car, not in the scooter, for the first time in weeks, because of the wind. Driving past one of the lakes, we saw a flock of pelicans bobbing and sieving the water for whatever it is they eat. They reminded me so much of feathery soup ladles.

Then, as a small treat for finishing work, we indulged in almond croissants at Jardine in Bloem Street before I went in at ten to eight. I’m going to really miss being so close to Jardine in the day. I have eaten many a breadstick there in the past year. I’m also going to miss browsing around DVD Nouveau, or having a walk up Parliament Lane at lunch. But Seapoint promises many new delights!

I don’t really know what to expect with the new job, and I don’t know what it will feel like to have a new pattern after 14 months of the one I’m about to end. This has been the longest working stint I’ve ever done so far, and my first real job. I am looking forward to having something to compare it to!

It sure is quite an adventure being a working twenty something in this city.

I am so grateful for the experience.

Looking forward to our small group supper tonight. We’re doing the food. Mexican Polenta and Salad, if all goes according to plan. I hope that the crowd will match the size of the casserole dish! End.

Happiness on Wednesday

donna — Wed, 25 Mar 2009 07:16:01 +0000

One of the pleasures of being attached to an architect: the feeling of glee whenever you happen to spot Flemish bond.

Horrific.

donna — Tue, 24 Mar 2009 13:04:38 +0000

I saw people feeding squirrels and pigeons KFC scraps in Government Lane this afternoon. I feel disturbed.

Update

donna — Sat, 21 Mar 2009 15:56:02 +0000

I was all muddled in my previous post – the essay that convinced us to go Vegan was by someone else entirely and called something different too. I’ve updated the post, but you can download the article here.

The Friendly Beasts

In Praise of Greens

donna — Fri, 20 Mar 2009 08:23:52 +0000

While driving through the Transkei in a Greyhound bus, as a 19 year old, I watched the vehicle ahead of us crush a tiny lamb under its tyres, and not turn back. Within a few months of this incident, after a bit of thought, I realized that the lamb chops I was used to eating didn’t grow in cling wrapped polystyrene on trees. Death was involved, and it was probably worse than what I witnessed on the road that day. The idea was unpleasant, and chewing on sinuous muscle tissue became more and more difficult. So I stopped eating meat. That was about as philosophical as it got.

After 2 years of nominal vegetarianism, with occasional spurts of “I should find out more, and I should do more”, I stumbled across a 14 page article called ‘Veganism in a Nutshell’ written by Bruce Friedrich, the Vice President of International Grassroots Campaigns for PETA. I couldn’t argue with the evidence he laid out in support of a vegan lifestyle, and I didn’t really want to. My husband read it too, and to my surprise, he made an overnight change from regular omnivore to total herbivore.

Four years later, a vegan lifestyle continues to make the most sense to us, considering the way the world is, and the way we are, now. It also makes so much sense in the context of our Christian faith.

The biggest reason we’re vegan is the cruelty of the factory farming industry. And it is an industry.

Another big reason, for me, is that I can’t ask someone else (usually, a poor, uneducated person whose only prospects for employment are those jobs that nobody else is interested in) to do what I would never ever consider doing. If chicken wasn’t available in convenient, single serving portions over the roastery counter, it’s unlikely that most people would rush out in a panic to decapitate and pluck a hen. The sad truth is that even the idea of a chicken meeting its maker on a farmyard chopping block is a romantic one. Scratch the surface of the factory farming industry, and you’ll wish you hadn’t.

Another reason is that I don’t need to eat animal products to thrive. There are thousands of wonderful things to eat that come from the ground. They’re tailor made for human digestion, they require less resources to produce, and supply more absorbable nutrition.

A whole lot of life revolves around putting food in your stomach. It’s wonderful to be able to eat with conviction, critical thought, and real pleasure.