Monday 29 July 2013

Raped of Its Dignity

Raped of It’s Dignity

I can only speculate.  But was South Africa dropped on its head at birth or what?  And I know what you’re saying to yourself.  You bring up a good point there, Rambler!  Why, thank you.  Your points are not so bad themselves.     

Look?  Some-something is seriously wrong.  I read yesterday that soon we won’t be able to spank our kids with the flat of our hands.  Naturally?  When my eyes have the misfortune of seeing crap like that?  I read no further, mumble profanities under my breath, or aloud, depending on who’s in the room.  Priests appear outa nowhere at times.  And then turn straight to the horoscope page.  FYI.  I won’t live happily ever after today…rats!  But I remain optimistic.    

Personally?  I’m not much of a spanker.  But on the rare occasion that I might feel the need?  I said, rare.  I know for a fact that I will feel a hundred times worse having to two-feet my child as a means of disciplining him/her.  The lawmakers, I am convinced come up with this load of drivvle during intoxication.  We’ve all been there.  You’re wasted.  Suddenly stripping and doing laps around the neighbourhood seems like a sound form of exercise.  There’s a huge difference, though, between party favourites and laws that govern the country. 

Let’sssssssss just say, right.  The disciplining occurred at the end of the passage?  What happens if he/she lands in such a way where he/she hits his/her head on the corner of the wall after I’ve disciplinicly (-_-) swiped the floor from underneath him/her?  He/she are still my kids, afterall.  Love hurts at times.  Ask me.  How serious would my disciplining session appear when thereafter, I have to help them up, check for blood, cry, sit up with them all night (they say that you shouldn’t allow your child to sleep for a while after they’ve hit their head), cry, hold an ice pack to the lump?  If you’re me, within all of the disappointment at the way this has gone, yet another dilemma arises. 

Fending off the temptation while you’re salivating at the knowledge that ice is at hand.  Alllllllllll that drama, when all I could have done was flat-handedly smack them on the arm or the thigh, any place except for the face, that’s not protected by the clothes I bought.  It totally defeats the purpose if I have a hand in protecting them against the pain I am trying to inflict on them, doesn’t it?  All it could have been, is smack and send.  I stopped at send because I don’t know where you prefer to send your kids after you’ve smacked them.  Plus I didn’t wanna appear egotistical and make this about me, me, me.

Already, corporal punishment has been banned in schools.  I dunno about you but the burning sensation lingering on the tip of our fingers from being whipped by a bamboo cane?  Even when we were nowhere near whomever had verbal diarrhoea during the lesson?  It kept us in line!  It kept us respectful and it helped us to master the art of crying within.  You didn’t wanna be known as the cry baby in school.  OMG!  Not the reputation you wanted following you around all your life.  And?!?!  We were still expected to write while our fingers throbbed and beated like Tom’s head when Jerry dropped an entire wall unit on it.  The main thing is that we wrote.  We wrote out of fear but we wrote, regardless.   

I’ve jumped the gun.  My apologies.  Lemme take a few steps back and tell you what was plastered across the front page of the Times?  The big union boss is being accused of alleged rape.  I said alleged.  I’m being as judicially correct as my fingers will allow.  He says he’s innocent and that he didn’t “hear” her saying no.….CHOKE….my mind was like, SCUREEEEEEEEEEEEEEECH!!!!!   Did he maybe hear his wife say, “Dear, you’re welcome to sleep with your colleagues during office hours.  I know how stressful the middle of the day can be for you.”  O_o.  Meanwhile?!?  Back at the....meanwhile?  Back in the two thousand and something....he was in sizzling hot water for spending funds on romantic rendevous with the now wife, then mistress!  Greed.  SMH.  He does admit to locking her office door, but just so that they weren’t walked in on.  Meaning, by his wife, I think.  I can't be sure.  But now the alleged victim is being charged for extortion, blackmail and for having a vagina.  I said, alleged.  I didn't mean it, though.        

First the now president was tried for rape.  But he’s innocent.  GASSSSSSSSSSP!  Shocker.  The guilty victim had HIV but he had a shower.  Least he's clean.  This may come as a surprise, but unlike in the US or other countries?  Not Zimbabwe.  When we vote?  We vote for the party.  Not the person.  The person?  If he's the leader of the "winning" party, we’re unfortunately just forced to accept him as president.  Which means that unlike the way that it’s done in other countries?  Not Zimbabwe.  Where the presidential candidate loses votes, a chance at winning or the ability to even compete in the stupid elections, because he has a record for a car he might have stolen back when he was being initiated for entry into a gang?  It was him or the car.  With a choice like that?  I woulda been bending that metal coat hanger my damn self. 

Here, however?  It’s alright.  You can have been the leader of that gang, rape, kill, steal, in the past or the present, a satanic priest, annnnnnnnnnything.  You still have every chance and apparant right, to run the country.  We're non-judgemental like that.  Just flash your card and you're forgiven.  It’s almost like….like we're being punished for having a heart beat.  It’s at this point and the only time that you’re seriously sincere in begging the heavens (You’ve given up on your parents’ explanation of how they were so very much in love and how they believed that having you would complete their lives.) for an answer to, “What the hell were you thinking when you made me?”  I'm guessing all of Zimbabwe are asking either heaven or hell this very question as we speak.     

One has a million wives.  The other has one wife.  That we know of.  The point I’m trying to make is that none of the accused, or the proven-innocent, have a valid reason, other than because I can, to even find themselves in this kinda predicament, ‘specially when it’s not their wives accusing them of this animalistic crime.  Hey, it happens.  Both ways.  But greed is a nasty, nasty habit, isn’t it?  You want your husband, well not wannnt-wantPrefer rather, to come home with his tail between his legs, pitiful as he says, “My love, I was charged for driving without my seatbealt today.”  Not.  “My love, I was charged for rape today.” 

But wait…don't go just yet....THERE’S MORE…..!!!!!!!!! 

Sommmmmmmewhere in the midst of all of this lunacy?  We have ol' faithful, Malema being allowed to form his own political party.  Jesus Christ of Nazareth!  O_O!  Talking about how the state should just take all of the land in South Africa and have people then apply to use it. Holy Mary, Mother of God!  >_<!!!!!  Gimme a second while I vomit. 

I feel it necessary to now put on record that should I develop Bulimia?  I will name Mr. Malema as the number one exclusive cause of my condition.  &%^$ all that emotional stress, fear of fat, sob sob, sniff sniff, when I look in the mirror I'm obese, shit.  My medical sheet will be very precise

Diagnosis: Bulimia
Symptoms:  Nausea and vomiting
Cause: Julius Malema
Treatment:  Unknown until a cure is found for idiosyncrasy


Pray with me, good people of South Africa.  May the good Lord, help us all!  Us who are stuck in this hellhole without the option or opportunity to buy property on Mars, or Mauritius. 


























Monday 22 July 2013

HONK HONK

As thought provokeless as a Wilson Block might appear?  Never judge a sweet by it’s ability to confiscate a filling from your tooth.  I’m sitting here, chewing up a storm and IIIIII dunno.  I think it might have something to do with how I feel about the dentist?  Don’t mean, I wanna chew the dentist.  But as I’m skewing my mouth and trying to feel with my tongue if I have any suspicious holes in my teeth?  Road rage came to mind.  It left for a bit but it returned.  Might be the alluring smell of whatever they make Wilson Blocks with.  So, lemme ask you….? 

What are your thoughts on road rage?  Do you think it’s;

a.  something that is provoked or
b.  just a thing of.....you’re just an angry somebody.  Period.  or 
c.   the driving school instructor taught you how, or
d.  like randyl said this morning, “and you wonder where I get it from :-\”

Ofcourse, being the Rambler?  I always have an opinion.  Not one that I share with many, in person.  Which is why I have a blog.  Now?  I hear the sounds.  So while some of you might be off scurrying to open a blog of your own to exercise the freedom of opinion that you, yourself have held captive for decades?  I will address those who, unlike me?  Make rather good use of their mouths.  Disclaimer: I’m in no way being crude or suggestive.  I am referring to speech. 

Not drama.  -_-

You know, I’m rather soft at heart and merry by soul.  Just…hey look?!?!  Just believe me.  Looks are deceiving.  That’s something they teach us the minute we exit the canal and the doctor smacks our ass and makes us cry and then while we’re being rocked into silence, wondering why our daddy’s aren’t choke-slamming ol’ Doctor Fast Palm on the floor of the delivery room, we get no answers.  Only enduring gazes.  Then we have to enduringly gaze back while confusing tears trickle down the sides of our new eyes.  Those looks deceived us.  Deceived us into thinking that when we’re smacked on our asses, we should gaze adoringly.  Annnnnnnnnnd?  There you have it.  A freak is born.  They don’t just…they don’t just happeNN.  :-\   

But for the most part, I’m not scowlish looking.  That again, is my opinion.  HoweVer.  If you’re one of the taxi drivers that almost ran me off the road this morning?  Those looks weren’t meant to be deceiving and neither was the vociferous tone eminating from my throat.  Not that you cared.  I wasted my vociferosity.  It’s like, if you’re in the lane and they want to be in it.  There’s no, “please can I get a gap?”  They’re like, some begging gesture while driving into you.  And then they still have the bravado to rub it in your face and say thank you.  So now how are you meant to virtuously curse at them?  

And then one person, two blocks down, in a crowd of ninety-two seems to be looking their way and walking a bit faster than everyone else.  In their minds?  They’re calling out to them to stop!  Cool!  They stop dead in front of you.  Does.  Not.  Matter.  Where!  And then beg your forgiveness and again.  Every word that would question your morality and that of your parents, is coming to mind and oozing outa your mouth and they hit you with that noble, thank you gesture.  Aaaaargh.  If you’re gonna be a danger to my life?  Be a danger to my life.  Please don’t thank me for it!

Think about this for a moment.  Not like that.  Not any ol’ how.  I mean think.  Hard.  Like you mean it.  How many of us would be calmer drivers if everybody just stayed in their lane?  And guess what?  That applies to life in general.  Can I get a honk-honk.  Get it?  Honk hon…’cause…I’m…see?  ‘Cause taxi’s are vehicles and they honk.  Or we…honk….before they try to…kill us.    

I have one message for these pitiless scoundrels!  If the goat you’re carrying in the passenger seat has crapped all over it?  (Readers?  I’ve shown you proof of the live-stock. Haven’t I?)  If you missed it, don’t worry…I got ya!  We…us that are not in front of the wheel of a 18-seater, packing thirty-six people and the youngest member of the cattle herd!  We had nothing to do with that.  It’s most probably your driving that led to movements of those kinds.  Let us not suffer for the bowels of the flock.  All we ask is for a peaceful ride home.  A peaceful ride to work. 




But then….sigh, it’s hopeless.  ‘Cause then there are the pedestrians.  CRAPPPP!?!?!?!  

Thursday 18 July 2013

Nelson Mandela

He's 95 years old today. Isn't that something? Ninety whole five! Meanwhile? He's been in the hospital for a while now and news reports say that he will be going home soon.

This, after the entire country was preparing for the worst and it only tells us that even at this age, his determination hasn't faltered! Most people can't remember whether their fish is a cat or a dog by ninety-five....

So, in his honour, I post this picture and quote...words we can all relate to!

Happy Birthday, Madiba!
Sent via my BlackBerry from Vodacom - let your email find you!

Wednesday 10 July 2013

Encountering The Voice of Forgiveness


I had theeeee best two days evvvvvvvvver!   So yesterday, right?  Was Tuesday

There I was, I’m minding my own business.  Doing my work and this….voice keeps talking to me.  Noooooh, noh!  It wasn’t because of DT’s.  That was last week.  ;-)  So, I’m hearing this voice and I’m like, “Voice?  Come on now.  Keep it down, can’t you see a girls tryna work here?  Look…look at my desk!”  You’d think it’d listen after I told it to look at my desk.   SMH.  If someone told you to look at their desk?  What does that mean?  It means be quiet, right?  Yeah.  At least someone understands. 
But nooooooooooooooooh.  Not the voice.  I thought if I gave it a dirty look, it would succumb to the pressure so I turn towards it.  I couldn’t find it. DRAT!!  I can’t see inside my head.  My talents have limits, okay. 

I then go back to what I was doing, after the other voice in my head said, “Hmmmmpf!”  Yes!  It said an action.  Voices have no mouths.  They just talk.  O_o!  Okay, this…this is not going as I planned.  Does sound like DT’s.  My only advice at this point is…just have faith.  Ye ol’ Rambler alwayyyyyys manages to bring the madness together, somehow, don’t I?  Ofcourse I don’t.  I mean, ofcourse I do. 

“Forgive, forgive, forgive!” 

Woahhh.  Can’t believe I’ve got 384 pages of writing on this blog word document.  That’s alota writing.  Thank you, Blackberry.  And my thumbs!  Hmmmmmmmmmmm?  Maybe I should try publishing this.  What you think?  “Blog of a mad Coloured Rambler.” 

What?  O_o

Whaaaaaaat?  O_o

The voice?!?!?  >_<  Oh oh oh yeah!  Sorry about that.  My eyes wandered off and found the page count.  And you know me.  When my eyes find the page count, anythings possible.  Except push-ups.  That’s a reaction to nothing but Jarryd’s instruction in dance class and even then.  I wanna resist but I dowanna be thrown out.  He’s the boss in that studio.  So yeah, allllllll day, “Forgive, forgive, forgive…..”  I realized that when a voice repeats the same word over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over?  It might not know another one….or?!?!  Orrrrr?  It may mean business. 

Lemme tell you something.  One of the most difficult journey’s for me has been reaching a point of being able to let go of past hurts and pain and honestly walk away from them.  Yesterday?  Two of my journies ended.  I felt a calm like never before where it didn’t hurt anymore.  It didn’t cause me anger anymore.  I was chatting to my cousin Cindy the other day and from our conversation, I understood what was going on.  I believe that this was the first time that I’d consciously heard God talk to me.  There were probably countless other times that He did, where I didn’t recognise it or didn’t acknowledge it the way I should have, but something incredible happened to me yesterday.  He didn’t stop until He got through to me.

Have you ever made a decision and knew?  You knew with everything inside of you that it was the right one?  I started thinking about the very beginning of time.  I see you eyeballing that last sentence.  Not….not alllllll the way back to Adam and Eve.  Come on now?  You’re trying to trick me, aren’t you?  Throw me off track ‘cause you’re well aware that if you start asking me questions while I’m in the middle of a story, I might just start a new one relating to something you mentioned. 

Jus-jussst walk with me here, okay…thatttt’s it.  Next to me.  No need to be running wild in the Garden of Eden.  Didn’t you hear?  There’re snakes there. 

No.  I’m referring to the beginning of my time.  Two very lonnnnnnng standing occurrences that I’ve been unable to walk away from?  All I could think about!!  And I’m talking over thirty years worth of harbouring this anger and resentment over what happened.  It all just…left me.  Just like that.  And I feel absolutely, indescribably, new

Today, I woke up and I decided that I’m gonna let those people involved know so that they too can free themselves and I did and guess what?!  I feel even better after having done that! 

Uh-oh!  It’s now just turned into tomorrow.  I’m gonna get some rest so that I can wake as fresh and as enthusiastic as I did today!  See you guys soon!

Peace!

Friday 5 July 2013

As promised........

I have to admit...Kimora looked pretty cute....I have no words for the rest of us...LOL!








A Fourth of July Makeover


Had to pass by to wish you guys a great 4th of July!  :-)  I'mmmmm too sweet-y for this post...too sweet-y for th.......Whatever happened to that guy?  "I'm too sexy for a singing career"  Whaaaaaat?  A singing career, my shirt?!?  Like there's a difference.  That’s what happens when you profess to be so sexy, it hurts.  It hurt, alright.  And?  Whyyyy am I picturing him in a lumo tank top?

All I’m saying is that at least Milli Vanilli made more than one song.  With other peoples voices, but still.  They had nations, fooled.  Don't act like you weren't getting down to those fraudulent jams!  You were right there....fraudulently dancing, weren’t you?  Come-on.  You knew all the words to “Girl you know it’s true”, didn’t you?  I did.  That’s just a lie not worth telling.  Admission is the first step to healthy guilt.  You heard it here first!

Onto today’s weather report.  It's a rainy one in Durban and the only significance the day holds here, is that it's Friday tomorrow.  There'll be no fireworks.  Unless someone puts together a last minute ANC / IFP march down the main city street.  Gungunglovu Street or some crap like that.  Don’t quote me.  You might get lost.  So?  No fireworks, no celebrations.   Unless Julius Malema's mouth suddenly disappears off of his face. 

As you can see there are oodles of possibilities but noooooooooh, jussssst an ordinary winters day out here along these coastal parts.  Uh_oh....my washing machine sounds as though it needs to go for speech therapy.  Not.  A.  good.  Sign. 

Reminicing is great, isn’t it?  So glad we were given memory.  Sitting here, thinking about 2008.  The last time I saw a 4th of July.  >_<!!!  That kinda didn’t come out right, did it?  O_o. I sound dead.  Good thing I wasn’t dead five years ago on this day.  Else, I wouldn’t be able to share this 4th of July story with you

Ali, Gills and myself....three of us.  You can count.  Okay, no need for sarcasm. 

We find ourselves in the heart of New York City, right?  I say that like I wasn’t on the plane sitting next to Ali.  Whose ankles coulda easily represented Puff Daddy on the reality show, “Which Body Part presents a Celebrity’s name”.  It’s not out yet, but I’m sure it’s in the pipeline. 

Therrrrrrre we were....wandering around in the city that never sleeps.  Thinking that it was a first-class idea to go to Sephora for a make over.  We absolutely loved it in there.  Psssssssst...peep this.  You can use allllllllllll of their makeup to your hearts content.  For free.  And nobody calls security.  So, after a long day of walking the city flat and shopping and posing for pictures?  We go in there and Gillian?  She wants smokey eyes, right.  LMAO!  Ali wanted something.  I cant remember what it was but I remember clearly what she got.  

As for me?  I much prefer the natural look, but because I wore a green tshirt...?  Dammit!  :-/  You know, I'm just weak.  My will, it was proven, is no match for a make-up artist hellbent on green eyeshadow.  Had I known I was about to be colour coded?  I’da pitched nude.    

By the way.  I’ve been trying to find the pics to actually show you guys and that's the reason I've posted this late.  But I promise to post them once I find them, okay? 

Lemme tell you something.  We walked in there, Stacey, Ali and Gillian.  We walked outa there……Two K’s and a YTF.  And I don’t mean in the Kim and Kourtney take New York, kinda way.  I mean the opposite.  I mean, Kermit, Kimora and YTF are your eyelids pitch black, kinda way!

I think Gillian was traumatised.  She had to have been since she didn’t make it to the fireworks display that night.  But Kimora and I did.  It rained, I remember but thanks to our hoods, our make-up stayed intact.  Now whether that’s a good or a bad thing?  You can judge for yourself once I post the pics.  Me?  I’m trying to understand why I’m saying thanks to...I guess because scaring innocent children wasn’t what we were there to do.  


^_^!  Happy 4th of July, everyone.  

Tuesday 2 July 2013

Manic Diagnosing

I hope you haven't completely written me off!  That would be uncool.  And cold.  Like this winter.  Brrrrrrrrrrrrrr.  And let's not talk about....depressing!

Uhhhh...On second thought? 

Let's! 

I have a question.  Is it me or has anyone else noticed how just.....just willy-nilly doctors have begun handing out the "depression" verdict?  I’m warning y’all.  It’s no longer safe around these parts, my friends.  Think twice before you decide to get a stiff neck in your sleep!  Or else....DIN DIN DIN DINNNNNNNNNNNN........  

Close your eyes.  Crap!  Then you wont be able to read.  Squint your eyes then, it’s better than nothing.  And let me take you on a depressing visit to the doctors office.  Ready?  Seat belt on?  Here we go....

You walk in there......you.  Go to the window, they take out your file, you sit down, watch the snowy TV they’ve mounted on the wall to keep you calm and distracted...in case you hear screams coming from the back.  Can’t have that.  Can’t have fear in the waiting area.  That’s for the dentist’s office.  Not the GP.  Here?  You have a choice on whether you want the injection.

Your eyes are taking strain because your neck can’t support your upturned head without you wanting to break the hand of the person next to you.  In half.  You don’t know them.  They’ve done nothing to deserve it, other than appear to be watching TV in a painless fashion.  Finally, you hear, “Miss So-and-so, the doctor will see you now.”  I got that from the movies, by the way.  In real life, they just call your name.

"Doc?  My neck’s been stiff for two days!  Haven’t slept a wink.  It’s just too painful."  Automatically, your hand comes up and massages your neck.  As if he doesn’t know where it is.

"Hmmmmmmmmmm?  Looks like depression to me!  Here!  Take these."  (Notice how there’s no mention of Icy Hot on the script)

O_O!  (that’s you, phase 2)

Okay, alrighT.  For the sake of fairness and all that is good and kind.  Granted, you've staggered into his/her office looking all cheerless and wretched and dark about the eyes.  It’s beyond me why you were limping.  To the man on the street, “Mannnnnnn, she looks emotionally troubled.”  But?!?  This aint no man on the street.  This is your doctor in his/her office.  Annnnnnnd?!?!  You do have a knot the size of a golf ball in your neck!  I feel your pain too.  I’m remembering the time I went for a full body massage and landed up in the chiropractors office.  I’m thanking my lucky stars right now that I didn’t go to your doctor, ‘cause I was not a happy chappy.  Happy Chappete.  ‘Cause I’m a female.  You know?  Like dude / dudette

Anyhooooo.......

Before you know it, you're hobbling right back outa there with a doctors note for manic depression and a prescription for meds with which heavy machinery should not be operated.  Nevermind, you just drove there.  Now...zooooooooooom....you’re off to the pharmacy.  You've filled out your prescription in total confusion.  Everything happened so fast.  You keep repeating to yourself, "He/she didn't even touch my neck." 

You're handed your meds by a pharmacist assistant who is clearly being nicer than normal since she’s well aware of what those tablets are for.  Besides?  Last thing she wants is for you to burst out in a frenzied wail orrrr...or snap and impulsively start flipping over medical pamphlets or something.  Depression can go either way.  You remove the insert and read.  I rarely do, but this is not about me.  Your head is already spinning from finding out that you're not the joyful, content person you once believed you were.  Once, as in about two hours ago.  Add to that, the disappointment of truly thinking that you were at the very least, in for a massage!  Things are just not playing out the way you imagined them, are they?  Now?  You've come to the 'warnings'. 

That diagnosis has baffled you so much that loss of concentration has caused you not to realize that you havent taken one of those little white bastard tablets, yet.  So, you’re standing outside.  Afraid.  Because there is a heavy machine parked in front of you.  And it’s yours.  And you need to get home.  But the insert said, leave it alone or else you’re gonna die.  So, all you’re doing is staring at your car, wondering, "How am I gonna drive home?"  I blame the doctor.  But as I said.  This is not about me. 

It’s now been a week of ingesting the medication prescribed for you.  And like a good little patient, you’ve convinced yourself that the doctor knows best.  Before long?  Whether you're Arthur or Marthur?  You just don't have a clue!  (Introducing, you, phase complete!)  Your mind is no longer alert enough to remind you that do have an Identity Document that cannnn help you figure that one out.  You're walking around the house like a stiff-necked zombie and your kids are like, "What happened to our mum?"  Smh!  Oooooops, my apologies.  I didn't mean to be insensitive with the whole 'shake my head' thing.  That's how this whole got thing started, didn't it?

And there you go.  I’m making light of this but I'm not blind and neither am I stupid.  Depression is a real illness but it's severity is being mocked by over-diagnosis.  Thats the just the way I see it.  Whether GP’s and psychologists have made some sort of a pactShrug my shoulders.  Whether there’s an over supply of depression medication?  Shrug my shoulders.  Whatever it is.  You should, on some level, know whether you’re in a state of depression or not.  And at times, doctors don’t know best.  My mum wouldn’t be here today, if that were the case. 

And I know that I might have over-exaggerated the scenario in my storyline.  It’s what ramblers do.  But I’m hoping that somewhere in there, I’ve made my point.  Oh okay...so now you’re gonna ask me what my point was, huh?  You must be a doctor. 


My point is this.  Don’t be raked into believing that your emotional state is worst than what you know it to be and feel it to be, simply because a doctor is telling you that it is.  And if you actually are in depression?  Don’t be raked into believing that those tablets they give you, removes whatever it is, causing you emotional strain.  They might numb the problem.  But they don’t solve it.  Take it from someone who’s been there.  It takes support, not sedation, to help you through it.