A Theorem on JM SHIT by Fila.
Please note before reading, if you continue past these notes, I cannot take any responsibility for the clarity and sick and twisted sad laughter that you may derive from this. You have been warned. Continue at own risk.
This is my theorem on what I have called the “JM SHIT phenomenon” (hereafter referred to as JM, or JM affliction, or alternatively the “”JM SHIT” which stands for “Julius Malema– Speak, Hinder, Instigate and Talkshit.)
Sources:
JM Himself (What I call the Proof of my theory)
JM Interviews. (Purely to see the effect the JM has on those who have not been inflicted by the JM SHIT Phenomenon)
ANCYL Press conferences. (Again only to see the effect the JM has in a surrounding where there are those suffering and those that ignore him.)
The Theorem
All the things which enter JM’s body were building up inside of him, so fast in fact that it could NOT be expelled fast enough to keep up with the monumental rate at which normal things are transformed into shit, causing him to get a pain in the ass. So he then consulted his Doc, who realised that the traffic should be re-routed to the largest Exit point. His mouth. Once re-routed, he needed to find something to ensure that it did not get too much outside influence (in order to try to minimize the amount of traffic). Create an endless loop – a closed system. Brilliant? Or not so brilliant? Head up ass, shit out mouth, no pain in own ass. Side Effect = Pain in everyone else's ass.
However there is a quick fix for this pain.
His Doc is running awesome specials – group discounts - Special offers deluxe.
Option 1. Head up own ass will cost you 1x ANCYL Membership of R12
Option 2. Head up JM's ass will only cost you a of your all morals, logic and ethics.
Wow - So worth it - so all we need to do stop feeling the pain is finding his damn doc... Apparently fully booked till next the Disciplinary hearing by the ANCYL for all attending officials from the ANC.
How sweet of them. Lets hope the DA’s stance that it is out of their budget remains steadfast.
ANC's own Doctor is trying to undo this re-routing but it is proving hard.
Apparently even once the head has been removed from the subjects ass, and shit rerouted to correct exit, ears are so clogged with shit, and every time they open their mouths to speak, someone puts their hand over their mouths in case of the bad breath left behind. Rendering them useless till it clears completely. No ETA of fully effective cure which is totally free from side effects. So think twice about it before you opt for it. It might relieve the pain now. But damage could be permanent and damn well embarrassing once the source of all the pain is no longer there.
It has been mentioned in medical circles that often the origin of such atrocities or diseases should be found and eradicated first, once this is done, hopefully all post-procedure victims would naturally and non-invasively revert back.
Only symptom which might be completely irreversible is the bitter, sour taste left in the mouth. As well as the embarrassment of having had your head up someone’s ass even if momentarily.
There is also the risk that it may not work at all on certain candidates, directly related to how long they have suffered, and also how much shit got rerouted, which would cause them to live out their lives with their head stuck up the ass of another.
Tuesday, 27 April 2010
Thursday, 15 April 2010
Technological Sin
After (another) late night working session, very tired and MUCH in need of sleep, the colleagues and I found ourselves at McDonalds’ having a late night dinner. One happened to mention he wished there had never been sin as then he could eat as much McDonalds as he liked. By some miracle, this sparked a thought process. God knows how. I was shattered. Full day training, followed by work at the office till 10pm. I then commented, through my junior cheeseburger, if there was no sin there would not be technology or McDonalds. Think my colleagues choked. A sensible though? From Fila? NOT alcohol induced?? WTF? Once they had regained composure I continued. If we had never eaten the proverbial apple and discovered sin, we would never have advanced. Let me explain. With sin comes knowledge, with knowledge comes a yearning in us. A yearning for more. A yearning for a pill to ease the cancer of discontentment. Our minds are no longer able to deal with the thought that there is MORE out there and yet not crave it.
Deep for McDonalds right? But yet so simple. So to all you Bible bashing people out there, get out of your AMG, leave your R3 million Rand home, and move to a nudist camp. Please. Until then stop moaning about us “sinners” for I truly believe that if you are a person who uses(and abuses) ANYTHING which is a technological advancement from say, the last 3000 years, is condoning sin.
I am a sinner. Now, that that’s off my chest, time for McDonalds.
Deep for McDonalds right? But yet so simple. So to all you Bible bashing people out there, get out of your AMG, leave your R3 million Rand home, and move to a nudist camp. Please. Until then stop moaning about us “sinners” for I truly believe that if you are a person who uses(and abuses) ANYTHING which is a technological advancement from say, the last 3000 years, is condoning sin.
I am a sinner. Now, that that’s off my chest, time for McDonalds.
Friday, 26 March 2010
Did I miss the memo??
Seriously kids, was there a memo I missed? A critical change in policy meeting that I didn’t know about?? I would have thought that changes in a policy as CRITICAL as this would have HAD to go to a forum for approval, but that aside the bare MINIMUM I would have said would be a briefing session notifying all users of the language-previously-known-as the Queen’s (and I don’t mean the ones you find at Risqué) English of the changes made to the integral core of the English language. The alphabet.
Now I know I am not a spring chicken anymore and received my basic education, where the alphabet is studied, memorized and engraved into our brains, in cursive and plain, back before we had democratic society and where we had schools where you were only accepted based on your suburb. Yes, Kids, I see the confused look on your faces, those post ’95 and purely educated in a free and fair South Africa, there was a time where unless you were exceptional, you had to go to the school closest to wear you lived. (It was the governments smoke and mirror show to keep segregation alive and well.)
Anyway, off topic, back to my education and how outdated and redundant is all appears now.
I matriculated when I was barely 17. Yes, this was in fact over 10 years ago, and I was cruelly reminded rather harshly by an invite last year to my ten year high school reunion – 10 years – that’s like going through the standards, 1 to 5. Twice. Yes, a LOT may have changed since then, but some on kids – the alphabet?? Who was this soulless creature who banished the vowels to dwell only upon the pages of long lost novels, penned with skill, and proper use of the Queen’s English?
I don’t know about anyone else, but I can hardly translate the communication of today. All vowels have been dropped, as if magically they were redundant. Pfft who needs a vowel in word?? Waste of time and precious letters.
Presoanlly I think Google, in all it’s brilliance, should release a translator language for this de-vowelled English I find scrawled across status’s and SMS’s in horrific abundance.
Perhaps I’m old fashioned, but I prefer words supposedly originating from the English language, to well, fucking resemble them.
Perhaps I am being sticky or old fashioned, but please, someone please teach the youth of nation to spell and to communicate before we all regress into a society where we are communicating with mumbled grunts and guffaws. Society’s are supposed to move forward, strengthen and improve. Not regress into communities of comprised only of descendants of the village idiot.
Today I implore you, please dear God, help to eradicate and remove this ridiculous form of communication and restore the English language to what it is meant to be.
For those that are no longer fluent in English, please find the above text translated below into the language of idiots.
Srsly kds, ws thr mm msd? crtcl chng n plcy mtng tht ddn’t knw bt?? wld hv thrt tht chngsn plcy s CRTCL s ths wld hv HD t g t frm fr prvl, bt tht sd th br MN wld hv syd wld b brfng sssn ntfyng ll srs f th lng-prv-knn-s th Qn’s (n dn’t mn th 1s fnd @ Rsqé) ng f th chngs md t th ntgrl cr f th ng lng. Th ph.
Nw knw m nt sprng chckn nymr nd rcvd my bsc dctn, whr th lphbt s stdd, mmrzd nd ngrvd nt r brns, n crsv nd pln, bck bfr w hd dmcrtc scty nd whr w hd schls whr y wr nly ccptd bsd n yr sbrb. Ys, Kds, s th cnfsd lk n yr fcs, ths pst ’95 nd prly dctd n fr nd fr Sth frc, thr ws tm whr nlss y wr xcptnl, y hd t g t th schl clsst t wr y lvd. (t ws th gvrnmnts smk nd mrrr shw t kp sgrgtn lv nd wll.)
nywy, ff tpc, bck t my dctn nd hw tdtd nd rdndnt s ll pprs nw.
mtrcltd whn ws brly 17. Ys, ths ws n fct vr 10 yrs g, nd ws crlly rmndd rthr hrshly by n nvt lst yr t my tn yr hgh schl rnn – 10 yrs – tht’s lk gng thrgh th stndrds, 1 t 5. Twc. Ys, LT my hv chngd snc thn, bt sm n kds – th lphbt?? Wh ws ths sllss crtr wh bnshd th vwls t dwll nly pn th pgs f lng lst nvls, pnnd wth skll, nd prpr s f th Qn’s nglsh?
dn’t knw bt nyn ls, bt cn hrdly trnslt th cmmnctn f tdy. ll vwls hv bn drppd, s f mgclly thy wr rdndnt. Pfft wh nds vwl n wrd?? Wst f tm nd prcs lttrs.
Prsnlly thnk Ggl, n ll t’s brllnc, shld rls trnsltr lngg fr ths d-vwlld nglsh fnd scrwld crss stts’s nd SMS’s n hrrfc bndnc.
Prhps ’m ld fshnd, bt prfr wrds sppsdly rgntng frm th nglsh lngg, t wll, fckng rsmbl thm.
Prhps m bng stcky r ld fshnd, bt pls, smn pls tch th yth f ntn t spll nd t cmmnct bfr w ll rgrss nt scty whr w r cmmnctng wth mmbld grnts nd gffws. Scty’s r sppsd t mv frwrd, strngthn nd mprv. Nt rgrss nt cmmnts f cmprsd nly f dscndnts f th vllg dt.
Tdy mplr y, pls dr Gd, hlp t rdct nd rmv ths rdcls frm f cmmnctn nd rstr th nglsh lngg t wht t s mnt t b.
Now I know I am not a spring chicken anymore and received my basic education, where the alphabet is studied, memorized and engraved into our brains, in cursive and plain, back before we had democratic society and where we had schools where you were only accepted based on your suburb. Yes, Kids, I see the confused look on your faces, those post ’95 and purely educated in a free and fair South Africa, there was a time where unless you were exceptional, you had to go to the school closest to wear you lived. (It was the governments smoke and mirror show to keep segregation alive and well.)
Anyway, off topic, back to my education and how outdated and redundant is all appears now.
I matriculated when I was barely 17. Yes, this was in fact over 10 years ago, and I was cruelly reminded rather harshly by an invite last year to my ten year high school reunion – 10 years – that’s like going through the standards, 1 to 5. Twice. Yes, a LOT may have changed since then, but some on kids – the alphabet?? Who was this soulless creature who banished the vowels to dwell only upon the pages of long lost novels, penned with skill, and proper use of the Queen’s English?
I don’t know about anyone else, but I can hardly translate the communication of today. All vowels have been dropped, as if magically they were redundant. Pfft who needs a vowel in word?? Waste of time and precious letters.
Presoanlly I think Google, in all it’s brilliance, should release a translator language for this de-vowelled English I find scrawled across status’s and SMS’s in horrific abundance.
Perhaps I’m old fashioned, but I prefer words supposedly originating from the English language, to well, fucking resemble them.
Perhaps I am being sticky or old fashioned, but please, someone please teach the youth of nation to spell and to communicate before we all regress into a society where we are communicating with mumbled grunts and guffaws. Society’s are supposed to move forward, strengthen and improve. Not regress into communities of comprised only of descendants of the village idiot.
Today I implore you, please dear God, help to eradicate and remove this ridiculous form of communication and restore the English language to what it is meant to be.
For those that are no longer fluent in English, please find the above text translated below into the language of idiots.
Srsly kds, ws thr mm msd? crtcl chng n plcy mtng tht ddn’t knw bt?? wld hv thrt tht chngsn plcy s CRTCL s ths wld hv HD t g t frm fr prvl, bt tht sd th br MN wld hv syd wld b brfng sssn ntfyng ll srs f th lng-prv-knn-s th Qn’s (n dn’t mn th 1s fnd @ Rsqé) ng f th chngs md t th ntgrl cr f th ng lng. Th ph.
Nw knw m nt sprng chckn nymr nd rcvd my bsc dctn, whr th lphbt s stdd, mmrzd nd ngrvd nt r brns, n crsv nd pln, bck bfr w hd dmcrtc scty nd whr w hd schls whr y wr nly ccptd bsd n yr sbrb. Ys, Kds, s th cnfsd lk n yr fcs, ths pst ’95 nd prly dctd n fr nd fr Sth frc, thr ws tm whr nlss y wr xcptnl, y hd t g t th schl clsst t wr y lvd. (t ws th gvrnmnts smk nd mrrr shw t kp sgrgtn lv nd wll.)
nywy, ff tpc, bck t my dctn nd hw tdtd nd rdndnt s ll pprs nw.
mtrcltd whn ws brly 17. Ys, ths ws n fct vr 10 yrs g, nd ws crlly rmndd rthr hrshly by n nvt lst yr t my tn yr hgh schl rnn – 10 yrs – tht’s lk gng thrgh th stndrds, 1 t 5. Twc. Ys, LT my hv chngd snc thn, bt sm n kds – th lphbt?? Wh ws ths sllss crtr wh bnshd th vwls t dwll nly pn th pgs f lng lst nvls, pnnd wth skll, nd prpr s f th Qn’s nglsh?
dn’t knw bt nyn ls, bt cn hrdly trnslt th cmmnctn f tdy. ll vwls hv bn drppd, s f mgclly thy wr rdndnt. Pfft wh nds vwl n wrd?? Wst f tm nd prcs lttrs.
Prsnlly thnk Ggl, n ll t’s brllnc, shld rls trnsltr lngg fr ths d-vwlld nglsh fnd scrwld crss stts’s nd SMS’s n hrrfc bndnc.
Prhps ’m ld fshnd, bt prfr wrds sppsdly rgntng frm th nglsh lngg, t wll, fckng rsmbl thm.
Prhps m bng stcky r ld fshnd, bt pls, smn pls tch th yth f ntn t spll nd t cmmnct bfr w ll rgrss nt scty whr w r cmmnctng wth mmbld grnts nd gffws. Scty’s r sppsd t mv frwrd, strngthn nd mprv. Nt rgrss nt cmmnts f cmprsd nly f dscndnts f th vllg dt.
Tdy mplr y, pls dr Gd, hlp t rdct nd rmv ths rdcls frm f cmmnctn nd rstr th nglsh lngg t wht t s mnt t b.
Youth loans available to valued customers, and other awesome entrepreneurial endeavours. (Copyright Pending)
I am positive the years have become shorter, the days have fewer hours, and the second hand ticks at least 5 times faster, sneaking them in when we aren’t watching. I mean I look back at STD 5(Grade 7 for the post) memories, and that year in my head feels like the equivalent of my last 5 years combined, and that’s after extracting exams and test, don’t want to remember those. On the other hand could just be another symptom of my age and my memory retains only the proverbial goals and hypothetical wins like Supersport highlites channel, knowing that I have limited space, and need to preserve power to keep the ones I have for as long as possible not wanting to get too full as too full means deleting, and the ripe age of 50 odd you don’t want to forget the wrong thing, such as home address, children (well .. maybe..) spouse, or worse, that GEM of a boutique you hunted and kept secret for SO long. Bet you wish that the desire to be the only one who knew about it to ensure exclusivity on those damn trinkets hadn’t been so bad so as to not even tell your closest and dearest girlfriend of its location, or perhaps made your significant other make his yearly expedition to do the impossible, buy the PERFECT gift. Damn. Damn being ... being... oh DAMNIT was I jealous or selfish?
See it's happening already. OLD AGE is coming, and with it the old adage I used to taunt my parents starts losing its humour. We used to mock and point and be SO cruel – worse than play ground bullies,” You are old you are old, nananananan” (insert thumbs in ears and wiggle fingers while sticking our tongues out and precociously bobbing our heads around) “Hey Mom, do you know why life seems to go by faster as you get older? Huh? Huh” *snigger snort snigger* It’s ’cos life is like a steep hill with a hole at the bottom, closer you get to the bottom the faster you go AHAHAHAHAHA Get it mom??? The hole HAHAH it’s like a grave HAHAHAAHH, nanananan”. So cruel, so harsh, I do not want children, maybe mute ones. If only I had known that it would in fact be Life itself that would have the last laugh on this one, not I, snorting and laughing, totally oblivious that with every tick of the second hand, I too was getting closer to that hole, and yes, it was going faster and faster.
That should be taught in pre primary day 1, first lesson, Irony – not just a term used in humour or jokes – it’s real and it’s as sure as Moms are omnipotent and all seeing. No jokes. It’s real and it’s going to get you – learn how to soften the blow, and avoid some amateur pitfalls. Not how to paint with our friggin’ fingers.
We need to adapt and learn. Invent things which are actually useful. Fuck LED TV’s and cars which levitate. How do they make our lives better? A adult time normalizer – now that’s what you call a winning product right there – would be like owning your own little communist country the amount of money you would bring in with that baby.
The next Nobel Prize should be offered as a reward. Like a humanitarian mission. The individual or corporation who invents a device which you could buy, which, when activated, allow the user to remove the dubbing function - for the kids post tape cassettes, this would double or sometimes triple the speed at which the tape was played. Stretching it generally beyond repair, but making bad music sound funny and doubling up at rendering it un playable by the parental since the 60’s – I mean let’s face it , their music taste sucked – right? Wait, Oh my God. I am at an age where there are people out there who consider my music collection of being “bad, old funny sounding, icky”.
If I am 27 now, if I had had a baby when I was 22, I would have a 5 year old brat who in 3 years at best, would resent me, hate my music, hate how I dress, what I buy and how I behave, and if it was legally possible most likely disown me as a parental. There is no one less cool than a parental, ever. Kiddie rule 105. When you start seeing your parental’s as normal, average people, you are officially not a kid anymore. Farewell Kiddo, don’t cry, it was fun while it lasted.
Ok. Breathe Fila breathe. Remember what the doc said. No unnecessary stress as it pushes my blood pressure up and is bad for me – WTF?? OH MY GOD. Who stole my youth?? I am what I always ridiculed my parents for being. *shudder* A fully functional adult. There are kids out there with the opinion that I am un-cool, and I don’t know what fun is, and that my life sucks ‘cos I don’t play on a skate board, and even if I did I would fall off and break something as this is what old people do – and ruin and destroy any and all cool events, or activities.
They do right??
Ok last week the base on which my communication skills was altered, doubtful of ever being the same again, and now my job description. WTF???
Someone needs an ass whipping. I mean just the other day (year) I was carefree and 25 or was that 24?? I remember starting my first job – wow ok that was 10 years ago. I officially am not just an *whisper* Adult, but an adult with 10 YEARS, not months, an entire DECADE of work experience. I’m a fucking dinosaur!!
I regret those first few, eager, naive, INNOCENT, working years where I yearned for experience, every job I thought looked awesome required 3-4 years experience . It seemed SO unachievable. Now, without even taking a breather to enjoy, I FLEW through the “cool ”job bracket and raced into the 10 years or more category.
Sure money is better, but they definitely could NOT be considered “cool” or awesome” or whatever word now means that it was not like a job, but something the generation after would look at and go, “Man, that guy is So cool, I would Love to be like him and do his job, man for an old (21) person they are pretty cool” or “Wish my parents had cool jobs like that then they would be cool and buy me cool stuff”. I MISSED the BEST years of my working life!!! I had YEARNED and LONGED and counted down the first year in Months – if people asked how much experience I would be “Oh I don’t know, 1 year and umm about 3.5 months – give or take a week or two”
Like a child I COUNTED down the months and had a celebration when I hit TWO solid years experience!! I was all happy and excited, and felt like an old hand – even filled out experienced for all skills on my matrix for interviews. Some even advanced.
LOL. No really. Literally I am laughing at how silly and short sighted I was. Advanced??? After two years working for a VERY small company doing pathetic web sites(looking back – they were cool, kinda like I used to be... maybe I should look up those URL’s again and go hang with them?) We thought we were the SHIT, how do you teach a web programmer with TWO WHOLE years experience ANYTHING?? Thought we were top of the game, so we kinda just rode out the next SIX realising that the more you get going with this whole career ”idea” and experience ”thing” the less important the years of experience benchmarks were as we were counting off the milestones as promotions, new certifications, career twists and thought out planning into not what we had done but where we wanted to go. Not just wanted, but should – what’s the SMART choice – not the cool choice.
If you had to ask me if I would EVER choose the smart as opposed to the fun, cool, exciting option I would have laughed at you and told you that you know nothing and I am NOTHING like what my parents said, and will NEVER stray from my carefree, wild ways as this is who I AM. Funny, how I used to confuse youth with identity.
Then again, I suppose even the most dull and boring geeks look back at their “wild” youth.
Oh, the days of unprotected calculator showdowns and those late night sessions with fizzy cool drink, bubbling and evaporating sugar vapours making you all giddy and high. Quizzing each other on general knowledge and how the practical application of velocity can be applied to the top speed and braking distance of your brand new sensible Toyota and then, wait for it ... Testing it! OH MY THE WILDNESS. *insert sarcasm here for those who missed that*
I suppose I should be grateful – at least those are nothing like my memories, or lack thereof at times. Mine really was wild, and crazy and wild and did I say crazy? Reckless nights with carefree days, and followed by more reckless days, on end. I was a machine! I could just go and go and go ...
I should have bottled some of that and stored it to create an artificial replacement of it, selling it outside old age homes to the little old grannies, “Hey Gramps, wanna see what I got here? It’s the good stuff yeah. 100% Pure youth guaranteed. Freshest there is – not a day over 18. Wouldn’t want to go younger now would we gramps hee hee, come on gramps, I’ll give it you for R50, ok ok, damn you oldies always make soft, R40 plus your gold denture – final offer – you won’t regret it. And remember how good it was back then, you, your lady, energy, life, ahhh just take a whiff gramps, just a small one – on the house.” Hell I would be doing some every now and then and I am still considered by those who are older, and wiser. (Note now i am a fully fledged adult, I see why we used to have those damn adjectives and the comparative sizing, never grasped it completely till now. I am actually at the good end of this scale.
Now that I think about it I am pretty sure that there is a clear inverse relationship between how cool I am and my age.... As my age increases, my cool factor directly but inversely goes down. Someone should investigate that. Work out our rate of loss of our cool factor. Just hope that the scales are not the same. Would not be fair if the un cool kids didn’t age as much, but sadly its probably true... they never ever experimented with illegal substances, or danced the night away, sat in the sun all day drinking having the sun-beer faerie cast his spell on you leaving you groggy, sunburnt and in excruciating pain unable to figure out why you have a white hand print on your tummy.
They never spent their youth as wildly. I think I went onto overdraught and borrowed left right and centre. Hope they don’t hit me too hard with the age interest for that... Pretty sure I never paid back any of it. Then again, I have to consider if I would actually want to?? And whose youth could I steal to make payments, if only the timid, science students were more entrepreneurial – they would trade it for shares. Ebay item 1152 – Youth, excellent condition, barely used. Drank a beer once, but it came back out again. No signs of wear and tear, but there is a slight odour of boredom and has been marked by others with Donkey punches and wedgies. Good resale – should fetch 2 years of Wild and Misspent Youth. Zest for life certified to be clean and redeemable. One time offer, must sell fast, as approaching 26th Birthday in 1 week, if not selling price will be halved, but retail value drops to only 6 months. Hurry, before you get age interest on your overdue youth payments. Asking price R150 000, or will trade for a Toyota corolla or similar sensible car. All offers considered now. Call now, value is decreasing by the hour, and am considering playing online games tonight which MAY cause damage. Please note shipping and handling NOT included, buyer must come to pick up or pay for first class flight to avoid damage and ensure freshness upon handover.
Sigh
Seemingly overnight I got a new desk, new job description with a whole new set of rules, KPI’s and deliverables. I don’t think I should be in this position – must be a mistake – I never applied. Didn't know I was eligible at all. Don’t think I have the right skill set – thought it said sensible, careful, considering family opportunities. Oh right. I get those through the new job orientation and training modules. Could take up to 3 years to complete if old training and skills are deeply ingrained from repetitive use. Sounds thrilling – overwrite those uber awesome skills I spent YEARS honing, such as Drink downing, no hands shots, flaming Lamborghini drinking, and the vital how to stay sober (ish) or if that fails the how to look and act sober (enough) – all useless and pointless now, need to learn all new complicated skill sets with FAR less exciting and fun training classes. Somehow I don’t see, “Sensible 101” or “Buying a house – all you need the fun stuff you need to know about”, being held at the Keg or Baron. More like at house, or with even more experience (older) adults who you kind of start enjoying being around as they make you feel like you are young and reckless. Making silly share trading mistakes, just so your 40 odd broker can scold you for being silly.
Ah life... wicked sense of humour it has. Wicked and dark. So much irony. If only we truly understood the irony of life in our youth, I am sure we would have been nicer to parents, and laugh less when one of them moaned about back pains and needing glasses... But I honestly don’t think it would change how I spent it. I did not spend wisely, or save some for a rainy day. Or make the sensible purchases, I spent my youth on the fly, threw it around on the bed of life and rolled around in it. Threw it off high buildings and bridges, and spent it for hours long jamming on the dance floor recklessly chucking it in the air while revelling in the moment. Yes I might not have spent my youth smartly, or wisely or saved it (or my poor broken body) but honestly I think I spent it the way its supposed to be spent. Why save something you can’t hold onto forever anyway? It’s going to go whether you used, abused and threw it around or not. Only difference is you won’t have the scars, aches, pains and stiffness there to remind yourself just how awesome the journey was. Besides why else would adults suddenly by the sensible car with soft suspension and cushy seats? It’s the reward for a youth well spent and the only way a used, aching slightly used body can be comfortable while doing those endless drives at speed limit, taking triple the time to get anywhere.
Yeah ok, back up. I’m not rewarding my tired achy body with anything like that soon. Still got a teensy tiny credit line available down the road, and I am pretty sure if I give them another joint to arthritis he will give me JUST enough to get me through to 30. And am I going to spend the last penny’s of youth wisely? Save them up for the proverbial rainy day? HELL NO!!! I have learnt nothing, and wouldn’t want to. I learnt how to spend youth the only way I see fit – with reckless abandon and no fear of the final destination, top down, speeding a long freely, and focusing more on enjoying that journey that how I’m going to get where I need to be, ah yes, this is the way you spend your misguided youth. And any luck, I’m hoping to trade in my tumultuous, terrifying, totally awesome 20’s in for the dirty 30’s as soon as I hit that ridge, and I heard that road is one hell of an awesome drive! WHOOP WHOOP, let’s get this top down, start up the engine, and spend that youth as recklessly as I can, sure I will always have enough to get me to the next stop. WHOOP WHOOP Lets go kids, I’ll show you how to spend youth! (Quick! Before my cool meter is too low, and lose the vooma keeping me at your speed, forcing me to act my age and be all grown upped and stuffs!!)
See it's happening already. OLD AGE is coming, and with it the old adage I used to taunt my parents starts losing its humour. We used to mock and point and be SO cruel – worse than play ground bullies,” You are old you are old, nananananan” (insert thumbs in ears and wiggle fingers while sticking our tongues out and precociously bobbing our heads around) “Hey Mom, do you know why life seems to go by faster as you get older? Huh? Huh” *snigger snort snigger* It’s ’cos life is like a steep hill with a hole at the bottom, closer you get to the bottom the faster you go AHAHAHAHAHA Get it mom??? The hole HAHAH it’s like a grave HAHAHAAHH, nanananan”. So cruel, so harsh, I do not want children, maybe mute ones. If only I had known that it would in fact be Life itself that would have the last laugh on this one, not I, snorting and laughing, totally oblivious that with every tick of the second hand, I too was getting closer to that hole, and yes, it was going faster and faster.
That should be taught in pre primary day 1, first lesson, Irony – not just a term used in humour or jokes – it’s real and it’s as sure as Moms are omnipotent and all seeing. No jokes. It’s real and it’s going to get you – learn how to soften the blow, and avoid some amateur pitfalls. Not how to paint with our friggin’ fingers.
We need to adapt and learn. Invent things which are actually useful. Fuck LED TV’s and cars which levitate. How do they make our lives better? A adult time normalizer – now that’s what you call a winning product right there – would be like owning your own little communist country the amount of money you would bring in with that baby.
The next Nobel Prize should be offered as a reward. Like a humanitarian mission. The individual or corporation who invents a device which you could buy, which, when activated, allow the user to remove the dubbing function - for the kids post tape cassettes, this would double or sometimes triple the speed at which the tape was played. Stretching it generally beyond repair, but making bad music sound funny and doubling up at rendering it un playable by the parental since the 60’s – I mean let’s face it , their music taste sucked – right? Wait, Oh my God. I am at an age where there are people out there who consider my music collection of being “bad, old funny sounding, icky”.
If I am 27 now, if I had had a baby when I was 22, I would have a 5 year old brat who in 3 years at best, would resent me, hate my music, hate how I dress, what I buy and how I behave, and if it was legally possible most likely disown me as a parental. There is no one less cool than a parental, ever. Kiddie rule 105. When you start seeing your parental’s as normal, average people, you are officially not a kid anymore. Farewell Kiddo, don’t cry, it was fun while it lasted.
Ok. Breathe Fila breathe. Remember what the doc said. No unnecessary stress as it pushes my blood pressure up and is bad for me – WTF?? OH MY GOD. Who stole my youth?? I am what I always ridiculed my parents for being. *shudder* A fully functional adult. There are kids out there with the opinion that I am un-cool, and I don’t know what fun is, and that my life sucks ‘cos I don’t play on a skate board, and even if I did I would fall off and break something as this is what old people do – and ruin and destroy any and all cool events, or activities.
They do right??
Ok last week the base on which my communication skills was altered, doubtful of ever being the same again, and now my job description. WTF???
Someone needs an ass whipping. I mean just the other day (year) I was carefree and 25 or was that 24?? I remember starting my first job – wow ok that was 10 years ago. I officially am not just an *whisper* Adult, but an adult with 10 YEARS, not months, an entire DECADE of work experience. I’m a fucking dinosaur!!
I regret those first few, eager, naive, INNOCENT, working years where I yearned for experience, every job I thought looked awesome required 3-4 years experience . It seemed SO unachievable. Now, without even taking a breather to enjoy, I FLEW through the “cool ”job bracket and raced into the 10 years or more category.
Sure money is better, but they definitely could NOT be considered “cool” or awesome” or whatever word now means that it was not like a job, but something the generation after would look at and go, “Man, that guy is So cool, I would Love to be like him and do his job, man for an old (21) person they are pretty cool” or “Wish my parents had cool jobs like that then they would be cool and buy me cool stuff”. I MISSED the BEST years of my working life!!! I had YEARNED and LONGED and counted down the first year in Months – if people asked how much experience I would be “Oh I don’t know, 1 year and umm about 3.5 months – give or take a week or two”
Like a child I COUNTED down the months and had a celebration when I hit TWO solid years experience!! I was all happy and excited, and felt like an old hand – even filled out experienced for all skills on my matrix for interviews. Some even advanced.
LOL. No really. Literally I am laughing at how silly and short sighted I was. Advanced??? After two years working for a VERY small company doing pathetic web sites(looking back – they were cool, kinda like I used to be... maybe I should look up those URL’s again and go hang with them?) We thought we were the SHIT, how do you teach a web programmer with TWO WHOLE years experience ANYTHING?? Thought we were top of the game, so we kinda just rode out the next SIX realising that the more you get going with this whole career ”idea” and experience ”thing” the less important the years of experience benchmarks were as we were counting off the milestones as promotions, new certifications, career twists and thought out planning into not what we had done but where we wanted to go. Not just wanted, but should – what’s the SMART choice – not the cool choice.
If you had to ask me if I would EVER choose the smart as opposed to the fun, cool, exciting option I would have laughed at you and told you that you know nothing and I am NOTHING like what my parents said, and will NEVER stray from my carefree, wild ways as this is who I AM. Funny, how I used to confuse youth with identity.
Then again, I suppose even the most dull and boring geeks look back at their “wild” youth.
Oh, the days of unprotected calculator showdowns and those late night sessions with fizzy cool drink, bubbling and evaporating sugar vapours making you all giddy and high. Quizzing each other on general knowledge and how the practical application of velocity can be applied to the top speed and braking distance of your brand new sensible Toyota and then, wait for it ... Testing it! OH MY THE WILDNESS. *insert sarcasm here for those who missed that*
I suppose I should be grateful – at least those are nothing like my memories, or lack thereof at times. Mine really was wild, and crazy and wild and did I say crazy? Reckless nights with carefree days, and followed by more reckless days, on end. I was a machine! I could just go and go and go ...
I should have bottled some of that and stored it to create an artificial replacement of it, selling it outside old age homes to the little old grannies, “Hey Gramps, wanna see what I got here? It’s the good stuff yeah. 100% Pure youth guaranteed. Freshest there is – not a day over 18. Wouldn’t want to go younger now would we gramps hee hee, come on gramps, I’ll give it you for R50, ok ok, damn you oldies always make soft, R40 plus your gold denture – final offer – you won’t regret it. And remember how good it was back then, you, your lady, energy, life, ahhh just take a whiff gramps, just a small one – on the house.” Hell I would be doing some every now and then and I am still considered by those who are older, and wiser. (Note now i am a fully fledged adult, I see why we used to have those damn adjectives and the comparative sizing, never grasped it completely till now. I am actually at the good end of this scale.
Now that I think about it I am pretty sure that there is a clear inverse relationship between how cool I am and my age.... As my age increases, my cool factor directly but inversely goes down. Someone should investigate that. Work out our rate of loss of our cool factor. Just hope that the scales are not the same. Would not be fair if the un cool kids didn’t age as much, but sadly its probably true... they never ever experimented with illegal substances, or danced the night away, sat in the sun all day drinking having the sun-beer faerie cast his spell on you leaving you groggy, sunburnt and in excruciating pain unable to figure out why you have a white hand print on your tummy.
They never spent their youth as wildly. I think I went onto overdraught and borrowed left right and centre. Hope they don’t hit me too hard with the age interest for that... Pretty sure I never paid back any of it. Then again, I have to consider if I would actually want to?? And whose youth could I steal to make payments, if only the timid, science students were more entrepreneurial – they would trade it for shares. Ebay item 1152 – Youth, excellent condition, barely used. Drank a beer once, but it came back out again. No signs of wear and tear, but there is a slight odour of boredom and has been marked by others with Donkey punches and wedgies. Good resale – should fetch 2 years of Wild and Misspent Youth. Zest for life certified to be clean and redeemable. One time offer, must sell fast, as approaching 26th Birthday in 1 week, if not selling price will be halved, but retail value drops to only 6 months. Hurry, before you get age interest on your overdue youth payments. Asking price R150 000, or will trade for a Toyota corolla or similar sensible car. All offers considered now. Call now, value is decreasing by the hour, and am considering playing online games tonight which MAY cause damage. Please note shipping and handling NOT included, buyer must come to pick up or pay for first class flight to avoid damage and ensure freshness upon handover.
Sigh
Seemingly overnight I got a new desk, new job description with a whole new set of rules, KPI’s and deliverables. I don’t think I should be in this position – must be a mistake – I never applied. Didn't know I was eligible at all. Don’t think I have the right skill set – thought it said sensible, careful, considering family opportunities. Oh right. I get those through the new job orientation and training modules. Could take up to 3 years to complete if old training and skills are deeply ingrained from repetitive use. Sounds thrilling – overwrite those uber awesome skills I spent YEARS honing, such as Drink downing, no hands shots, flaming Lamborghini drinking, and the vital how to stay sober (ish) or if that fails the how to look and act sober (enough) – all useless and pointless now, need to learn all new complicated skill sets with FAR less exciting and fun training classes. Somehow I don’t see, “Sensible 101” or “Buying a house – all you need the fun stuff you need to know about”, being held at the Keg or Baron. More like at house, or with even more experience (older) adults who you kind of start enjoying being around as they make you feel like you are young and reckless. Making silly share trading mistakes, just so your 40 odd broker can scold you for being silly.
Ah life... wicked sense of humour it has. Wicked and dark. So much irony. If only we truly understood the irony of life in our youth, I am sure we would have been nicer to parents, and laugh less when one of them moaned about back pains and needing glasses... But I honestly don’t think it would change how I spent it. I did not spend wisely, or save some for a rainy day. Or make the sensible purchases, I spent my youth on the fly, threw it around on the bed of life and rolled around in it. Threw it off high buildings and bridges, and spent it for hours long jamming on the dance floor recklessly chucking it in the air while revelling in the moment. Yes I might not have spent my youth smartly, or wisely or saved it (or my poor broken body) but honestly I think I spent it the way its supposed to be spent. Why save something you can’t hold onto forever anyway? It’s going to go whether you used, abused and threw it around or not. Only difference is you won’t have the scars, aches, pains and stiffness there to remind yourself just how awesome the journey was. Besides why else would adults suddenly by the sensible car with soft suspension and cushy seats? It’s the reward for a youth well spent and the only way a used, aching slightly used body can be comfortable while doing those endless drives at speed limit, taking triple the time to get anywhere.
Yeah ok, back up. I’m not rewarding my tired achy body with anything like that soon. Still got a teensy tiny credit line available down the road, and I am pretty sure if I give them another joint to arthritis he will give me JUST enough to get me through to 30. And am I going to spend the last penny’s of youth wisely? Save them up for the proverbial rainy day? HELL NO!!! I have learnt nothing, and wouldn’t want to. I learnt how to spend youth the only way I see fit – with reckless abandon and no fear of the final destination, top down, speeding a long freely, and focusing more on enjoying that journey that how I’m going to get where I need to be, ah yes, this is the way you spend your misguided youth. And any luck, I’m hoping to trade in my tumultuous, terrifying, totally awesome 20’s in for the dirty 30’s as soon as I hit that ridge, and I heard that road is one hell of an awesome drive! WHOOP WHOOP, let’s get this top down, start up the engine, and spend that youth as recklessly as I can, sure I will always have enough to get me to the next stop. WHOOP WHOOP Lets go kids, I’ll show you how to spend youth! (Quick! Before my cool meter is too low, and lose the vooma keeping me at your speed, forcing me to act my age and be all grown upped and stuffs!!)
Saturday, 13 March 2010
Fuck Normal
A time comes when in everyone’s life when you need to take a head count. Take a step back and take a look at this circus we call our lives. Where am I going? Where did I come from? And where am I now? Am I still the ringmaster of this sensationalistic life I lead?
I remember the years, barely 17. So independent. My thoughts so clear, so virgin. Not yet raped by this dirty, and perverted world, filled with its fatalistic views. This world, where it’s hard to find a fridge large enough to stop our dreams from expiring. I jumped into this harsh wasteland, no pushing necessary, and told myself to man up and become the person I could see in my head. That this was the only way to do it. I always did love to punish myself.
Funny thing is, looking back, I loved those years. They were filled with days of hunger, both mental and physical, but mostly mental. I yearned for knowledge, and grasped at every measly scrap offered to me. I would guzzle it up, not leaving a morsel on the proverbial plate, wiping my mouth politely while with the other hand holding out my bowl for more.
Over the years it is an immense struggle to fight off the starving pack of dream leaches and soothsayers, who yearn for nothing other than to rip your dreams to shreds and keep you down with them, with the downtrodden and lackluster hordes, whose dreams already lay discarded, in ruins. Such an easy thing to do, they make you feel… at home… normal… whatever normal is. Fuck normal. I don’t want to be another brick in the wall.
I want to be great, so I have fought my way through. Held onto my ideals and crazy thoughts. These crazy thoughts are mine damnit and I take FULL ownership. I hold onto them with BOTH hands and relish in how they squirm and make themselves at home in my arms. So again I say FUCK NORMAL. I like who I am. I like the way I see the world. I like where I am and where I am going. No. Not Like… so … non-descript. I LOVE my life. I LOVE who I am, where I am and where I am headed. Fuck Yeah. I love my life, and wear my scars with pride.
I remember the years, barely 17. So independent. My thoughts so clear, so virgin. Not yet raped by this dirty, and perverted world, filled with its fatalistic views. This world, where it’s hard to find a fridge large enough to stop our dreams from expiring. I jumped into this harsh wasteland, no pushing necessary, and told myself to man up and become the person I could see in my head. That this was the only way to do it. I always did love to punish myself.
Funny thing is, looking back, I loved those years. They were filled with days of hunger, both mental and physical, but mostly mental. I yearned for knowledge, and grasped at every measly scrap offered to me. I would guzzle it up, not leaving a morsel on the proverbial plate, wiping my mouth politely while with the other hand holding out my bowl for more.
Over the years it is an immense struggle to fight off the starving pack of dream leaches and soothsayers, who yearn for nothing other than to rip your dreams to shreds and keep you down with them, with the downtrodden and lackluster hordes, whose dreams already lay discarded, in ruins. Such an easy thing to do, they make you feel… at home… normal… whatever normal is. Fuck normal. I don’t want to be another brick in the wall.
I want to be great, so I have fought my way through. Held onto my ideals and crazy thoughts. These crazy thoughts are mine damnit and I take FULL ownership. I hold onto them with BOTH hands and relish in how they squirm and make themselves at home in my arms. So again I say FUCK NORMAL. I like who I am. I like the way I see the world. I like where I am and where I am going. No. Not Like… so … non-descript. I LOVE my life. I LOVE who I am, where I am and where I am headed. Fuck Yeah. I love my life, and wear my scars with pride.
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