Honesty - Its such a lonely wor(l)d

I’m gonna try something I've never done before. I know that this blog gets about as many views as a video of a cow eating grass on Youtube. So I’m going to exploit that a little bit. For once, I’m going to be selfish and post about my actual, real, honest feelings. I’m going to just type what I've been too scared to say out loud for quite a while. So think of this as a diary entry, but with less chance of people reading it.

I've been struggling with a lot of huge decisions lately. Decisions that could affect my future career, my relationships, and that could ultimately affect the person I turn out to be.

I have 2 options of where to go study after school, which, as I've realized, in this day and age is quite something. I have the amazing opportunity to be able to choose where to go to university instead of being forced to go to one. I know what a blessing this is, but, if I’m honest, its frikken terrifying. It’s not exactly like the two schools are a few minutes apart, or a few minutes away from home. On the contrary, one is in another province. And that’s the one I’m leaning towards.

I have the opportunity to choose between Stellenbosch University and Rhodes University. I have been accepted to study toward a Bachelor of Journalism degree at Rhodes and a Bachelor of the Arts degree at Stellenbosch. I’m sure you’re thinking “why the hell are you even considering Stellenbosch, you moron?” Hell, I know I have. The thing is, I’m barely 18 years old. I might be dead set on being a journalist now, but what if I get to my second year and suddenly I find that I’m in over my head? What if I realize that I’m not cut out to be a journalist? By that time, my parents will already spent thousands of rands on my tuition and hostel fees. I can’t stand the thought of wasting their money like that.

Then, of course, is the distance from home. An 8 hour drive from Paarl, it’s not exactly like I can shoot through from Grahamstown for a weekend. That doesn't bother me as much as the fact that I’m far away from the friends I've made who are all going to Stellenbosch. Yes, I know I’ll make new friends, but that’s another thing I’m scared of. I’m scared Grahamstown changes me into something I don’t want to be. I’m scared I become someone my friends (and, frankly, my 18 year old self) will not want to know anymore. I’m scared I lose contact with the people who've been there for me for the past 12 years in favour of people I haven’t even met yet. That part sounds very irrational now that I think about it, but still. It’s a possibility.

“Then go to Stellenbosch if you’re so scared,” you might say. But then I’m gonna reply with “I know I’m gonna hate myself for the rest of my life if I don’t go to Rhodes.” It’s quite the internal debate sometimes I tell you.

Although the above has been consuming my thoughts (along with my ability to PASS the final exams) there is something else that’s been on my mind for over a year and a half now. Actually, if I’m being precise, since 7 May 2011. If I wanted to go back further, I could go to November 2010. And if I wanted to go further still, I also could. But before May 7^th, it was happy times. And I would give anything to be able to go back to before that day. Just one more day. I would do anything to fall back under the illusion that he still cares about me.

I sometimes wonder where he is, and what he’s doing at the moment when he runs across my mind. I wonder what would happen if I were to see him in the streets. I used to dream of us walking the streets together, but now I find myself hoping that I never have to see him again. And yet I scan the crowds for his face, having not the slightest clue what I would actually do if I did spot him.

The fucker made me fall for him. He saw things in a way that made me rethink my view of the world. He said things that inspired me to write poetry and songs. He made me feel like I was capable of being someone special. He made me feel extraordinary. He made me feel loved.

He made me happy. He would ask me how my day was, and would actually WANT to hear an answer. He cared when I was upset and would actually try to make me feel better. We would have 3 hour long phone conversations and text each other until heaven knows what time in the morning. And then it stopped. He left.

I was by no means his fault, though he was no saint. He could also drive me frikken crazy sometimes with his moods. We both know that it was me. I was the one who screwed up, and I probably have no right to feel like the victim. I’m not going to get into what I did, though you probably don’t care. I mean, it’s not like anyone is actually reading this, but still. It would hurt him and me to talk about it. All you need to know is I hurt him. Badly. Then he left. Without a warning, without a good-bye, without one last frikken conversation or phone call, or “I love you,” he left.

I understand why he did, though. It would've hurt too much to say good-bye. And I can’t hold it against him. He just wanted to avoid being hurt again.

I've often wondered if I miss HIM, or if I just miss the way he made me feel. I actually don’t know. I’m still struggling to find the line that divides the 2. But I think, if I’m being brutally honest, I’m too scared to let him go, because I’m scared no one will ever make me feel the way he did. I’m frikken terrified that I’ll never find another. I’m actually one of those people that still believe in true, honest, ever-lasting love. Call me cliché, call me a hopeless romantic, call me whatever you want. I don’t care. It’s not like anyone is reading this.

I like to delude myself that he sometimes thinks of me too. I like to think that, no matter how much he says he hates me, when he’s alone or when he’s lying on bed at night, when he doesn't have to pretend for anyone, that he thinks of me. That he misses our conversations as much as I do. That he still cares, somewhere deep down.

I know my logic and way of thinking is flawed. I know that I’m irrational, that I’m incredibly weird, and maybe completely frikken screwed up in the head. But that’s it. That’s what’s been going on inside my head for the past year. Sorry to have wasted your time, but, in all honesty, if you just read all that shit, you must have been pretty bored to begin with. Anyway. It’s time for me to go now.

“Good night and joy be with you all.”

Just in Time

It’s not every day that something happens to completely change your world. I guess that’s a good thing, otherwise life would be way too exciting, even for the adventurous. This, however, is not an adventure story. It may not even be a story, but more of a memory. So, without any further delay, here goes…well, everything.

The phone rings downstairs, and I knew it would only be a matter of seconds before I hear my name, so I get up and hurry to the phone. I answer with my usual half-hearted “Hello,” not really interested, until I heard what the caller had to say. I drop the phone.

Spring. I think. Every day was spring when he was around. We were walking in the park, where we always ventured to get away from the city’s incessant buzzing. He was playing with my fingers. I smiled, and so did he.

I run blindly up the stairs again, force my door open, take the keys off my nightstand and fly back down and through the front door. Everything seems to move in slow motion, and I can’t make my legs move quicker.

Winter this time. I remember the melting snowflakes in his hair, making it an even darker shade of brown. The cold, icy wind makes me shiver involuntarily and he puts his arm around me and smiles gently…

My eyes start to water as I speed along the winding main road, but whether from the wind or the thick lump in my throat I don’t know. I try to focus my attention on the road and the wind pelting my face, but I can’t keep my mind from falling back into the past, to the memories.

Still winter, we sit by the frozen lake on a bench by the water’s edge. His laugh echoes from behind the trees as he laughs at one of my comments. The world suddenly seems a brighter place, as it always does when he laughs…

His laugh still echoes in my head as I park awkwardly in the hospital parking lot. A distant, fading sound. Unwillingly, I sink back into another memory, the most recent…yesterday.

Spring again, but the winter chill is still present. The leaves on the trees are just starting to bud. He took my hand and looked deeply into my eyes, as he always does when he has something on his mind. It felt like he was looking into my soul. He seemed to stumble over the words forming on his tongue for a moment before he righted himself and took what was left of my breath away with three little words…

“I love you.”

The words still echo in my ears as I make my way through the seemingly endless maze of white-washed walls and tears fill my eyes again, but I blink them away and force myself forward and focus on finding his room. I turn into another passage and scan the doors for the right number. I finally see it and stop dead in my tracks. I take a deep breath to brace myself before I enter.

Relief washes over me and fresh tears fill my eyes as he opens his at the sound of my footsteps. I walk slowly to his side, not bothering to wipe them away. As I take his hand, he fills the room with the sweetest, most beautiful sound in the world.

“Hey.”

Undiscovered Potential

During the March hols, my family, along with a few friends, went on the annual Easter camping trip to Langebaan. Now I know that Langebaan isn't exactly a stop on the ASP World Tour, but under the right conditions, the waves can be magnificent. Not a far paddle, yet a long ride. Endless barrels all to yourself, because no one else is brave enough to tackle the sometimes frigid water.

Easter weekend was over spring tide. The moon was almost full, and the waves were ranging between 2 and 4 meters with a right break. It was heaven, even though I did get eaten quite a few of times.

But this post isn't about my dream wave. Its about waves that people have no idea exist, and waves that will probably never get ridden. A short walk from our campsite in Langebaan was another stretch of secluded beach. The waves here looked just as magical. I didn't get a chance to ride them, because my wrist was giving me problems, but I'm making a point of charging them next time.

Taking a drive out to Saldanha Navel Base, where access is highly restricted and not really a place you'd expect to see someone with a board tied to their roof. There is a small section of about 200m of beach between 2 rock outcrops that the officers use to torture the troops by having what they call "Beach Parties." Access to the beach is tricky in itself as it involves a steep decent over sharp rocks and thorns, but the reward is mind-blowing. Its a discovery I made last year February as we were staying in 2 houses that are for rent there. The wave doesn't have a definite break, but that doesn't stop you from getting some tube time. Quite a paddle, but after a dip in the sand, you can pretty much walk in waist deep water to where the waves form.

Backtracking a bit to the Saldanha Harbour, A small blink-and-you'll-miss-it road just to the left of the Navel Base's main gate. A long-ish drive through an access controlled boom that leads to the Port Control tower, and down a gravel road. There is a stretch of pure rock where you can see some people fishing. There breaks a wave that I am itching to take on, but I know I wont because of the dangers. So much potential. Glassy barrels that will give you an amazing 2 second ride before smashing you into the rocks.

The point of telling you about these waves may seem pointless, but this post isn't so much about surfing as it is potential. There are so many waves out there that will never be ridden. Perfect waves that break too shallow, or over a rocky outcrop, waves that are just too small to be ridden, but that look inviting. Then there are those waves that radiate perfection in every way imaginable that lie hidden in the far corners of Indo and other small islands that are just waiting to be discovered. The same is true for people. People can go their whole lives without realizing their dreams. Without discovering their true talent. Without taking a leap of faith that will change their lives forever. I think people are too scared to take the drop.

People spend too much time doing what's expected of them and too little time exploring themselves. They live and they die without discovering themselves and what makes them truly happy. Their potential gets lost in the rush of society, while some people are over-exploited and no longer find pleasure in what they once loved.

A balance does exist though, to those who are brave enough to seek it. The first step to realizing the balance it to discover your passion and what can drive you to experience a feeling that will make living worthwhile. The next step is to practice it. To enjoy it, and most importantly, to preserve it. Because in that moment, of feeling like you can do anything, that's when you discover your true potential.

Excuse the quality of these photos, they were taken with something that wasn't quite a camera.

Off Saldanha Harbour

Langebaan sunset

The joys of spring tide

The beach away from the campsite

Late Afternoon Boredom

Some shots that resulted from a lack of anything better to do

Confusion

I've been a very bad blog writer lately. I would love to blame it on matric, the amount of work, university applications, an operation and recovery, a busy social life or even an overload of creative ideas, but the truth is (even though all these factors have eaten up a huge deal of my brain lately, especially the whole university thing) I haven't had anything to post recently. My creativity levels have been null and void since the March exams ended.

Now I know that this isn't exactly a problem, since I think I have a total readership of 2, but it's been a while since I've written anything not related to school. And I don't like this. Its disturbing to think that I might be neglecting one of my favorite pastimes. It makes me wonder.

In truth, my mind has been a very dark and obscure place lately. I've been feeling a lot of conflicting emotions about a lot of situations, ranging from the standard friend trouble to what could possibly be a medical mystery relieving itself on my left arm. A lot of thoughts have yet to find their way on paper or a computer screen (though I don't think some of them should) and I need to get cracking. Even as I sit here, the deep voice of  John Paul White from The Civil Wars distracts me and I find myself staring at the keyboard wondering what to write and what the actual point of this post is.

I think this is a point in itself. There's so much going on in our minds that we don't share, and this makes us wonder who we are and why we find ourselves in the situations we're in. In times of confusion like these I find it necessary to take a step back to think about and reassess a few things. Take a few minutes or maybe even a few hours and just be by yourself. Let your thoughts have their way with you and I know how scary this is to do, but its good for the soul, or so I'm told. Let them escape through a muffled giggle, tear, pen, lyric or music note. But what ever you do, do not get up and and worry about them as intensely anymore. If you can, don't even worry about them at all, though I know this can also be quite difficult. But if you never try, you might be stuck with them for a while, and that might cause even more confusion. And don't let that become an anchor, because if you do, your ship might never find a decent place to dock.

Honestly, I have no idea what I just wrote. I promise my next post will be more coherent and will actually make sense. I hope.

Windows

On a recent (this afternoon, in fact) road trip with a friend, I noticed something. As we were driving down the N1, I noticed (in between bouts of fearing for my life) that very few people actually look around them when they drive. When I say this, I don't mean in a way that will cause an accident, I mean that most people just stare straight ahead of them without looking out the windows, and those who did, had vacant expressions, like they were given a strong dose of morphine.

This got me thinking for reasons I still cant figure out. I noticed that sometimes at school, it works the same. People stare at their feet or straight at the classroom they need to get to. People are so focused on getting where they need to be as fast as possible that they don't realize that they're missing out on some of the best scenery life has to offer. Now, I know I'm not the first one to make this observation, and I think this is actually a very cliche idea, but it still has to be said. Or rather, I need to give my view, how ever uninteresting it might be.

I have a very deep fear of becoming one of those people. I have a fear of being blinded by the tar road that stretches ahead of me. I have a fear of being caught up in the sight of the window rather than what's beyond it. I have a fear of being too focused.

Let's face it, its good to be focused. We would never get anything done if we weren't. And if drivers weren't focused, South Africa's (and the world's) death toll would be a helluva lot higher. Focus is a good thing. Most times. Other times, its an all-consuming thing that leads to stress, insomnia and burn-out. That's why its good to unwind.

Now, I'm not saying that drivers should not look ahead of them when driving, just don't be consumed by the road ahead. Be consumed in where you are at that very moment. Be consumed be the bush you just drove passed or by what might be waiting on the horizon. Take in the absolute beauty around you and not the monotony of the tarred road in front and behind you. Trust me, its not going anywhere. Unless you take a wrong turn and wind up on a gravel road in the middle of nowhere. I take no responsibility for that. Seriously do yourself a favor and take a look around next time. And don't be caught staring at the window instead of out of it. That makes you just as bad as the people who look straight ahead.

Naturally, I voiced this to my friend. His reply was typical of him, and also what's going through your mind right now.
"Dude, jou kop raas."