Verbal Diarrhoea

In this month’s Runner’s World there were three articles that attracted my attention: Marathon Des Sables, It’s About Time and Human Race.

According to the contents page Human Race is about a teen who “defies epilepsy and dramatically improves his health through running.” According to the article Jaundré (our teen hero in this tale) used to suffer up to 14 epileptic fits a day, “despite heavy doses of anti-convulsive medication”. Since taking up running, he can go weeks without experiencing a seizure. “At most he has four seizures over a period of three months”.

Enter a heavy dose of cynicism from my side. I won’t deny that there are health benefits to exercise; I just need a little more than the anecdotal evidence of parents to believe that running decreases the number of seizures to such a degree. I want the opinion of five qualified medical doctors. I want to know if his diet has changed in anyway. I want to know if he’s switched drugs. I want bar graphs!  

Anyway, at least the parents aren’t advocating that others swap epileptic drugs for exercise. That my friends, smells a little too much like a certain Scientologist mocking a celebrity for “indulging” in anti-depressants. Postnatal depression is real, you fucktard!

What did however impress me about Jaundré Niemandt was the fact that he managed to complete a 10km race in 68 minutes. 68 minutes! Do you know how incredible that is? Seriously? Do you have any idea how hard I have to push myself in order to beat a time like that? Do you have any idea how many pep talks I have to give myself? It takes a lot of mental energy to force myself to continue at such a speed and here’s this boy who needs two people to hold his hands while running, and his kicking my ass. If that’s not inspiring, I’m not sure what is.

Busy. Always …

Quote from the movie, “Invention of Lying”.

Jennifer: No. But I enjoy the end result of the job which is money. And the hours are pretty good for the amount of money I make, which I spend on things I like, such as clothes, hiking, drinking – even though I know it’s bad for me. (PAUSE) But I’d rather just get all the money and not work for the results.

This is the quote that popped into my head as I thought of travel destinations. Right now the list of cities/countries that I’d like to explore has grown exponentially.

The original desire to explore one city/country in each continent BEFORE revisiting a continent has waned. I guess I’d always assumed that I’d only ever have money to travel to five destinations and that I’d better make those good choices. But with two promotions in as many years, there is no pressing need. There’s suddenly this belief that there’ll always be time … there’ll always be money.

(Of course there’s also the fear that I’ll spend so much time vacillating over a destination that I’ll never travel).

After seeing this picture I’m currently in love with Amsterdam. More pictures of awesome European destinations available HERE.

*You can find the script for the Invention of Lying here. And yes, occasionally I read the sections of TV/movie scripts even AFTER I’ve already watched the movie.  Sometimes the dialogue is just too good not to indulge.

The daily journey to work should have taken me no longer than ten minutes. But I’d left the house late and now I found myself sitting in traffic.

Sitting there, hands clenching the steering wheel, lips chapped and attempting to sing along to The Postal Service, I noticed her running by. And instantly I hated her. I hated her and everything she represented. I hated her freedom. I hated the fact that it was nearly 8 in the morning and she wasn’t rushing off to an office with fluorescent lighting. Her fingers would not be gliding effortlessly across a keyboard, in an effort to update the latest database. I hated the fact that she had the luxury of spending her mornings exercising, her legs pounding away rhythmically. I imagined experiencing the exertion of my lungs, the cold air on my face and I hated her. I hated her pert ass and blonde ponytail swinging to and fro.

And as sat there thinking up a list of imaginary wrongs incurred by the young woman, I had what others would refer to as an “epiphany”. I realized that a few months ago my opinion of the woman would have been different. I would have looked at her in complete and utter awe. I would have admired her willpower. The discipline that it took to wake up at the crack of dawn and run anything further than a block, was beyond my comprehension. And this feeling of awe would soon be followed by one of dejection. I’d never be capable of any of this.

And now … Now all those things I’ve admired in other runners; all those things that I always I assumed I was incapable of doing, are easy. I’ve finally reached a place where I can run 8km comfortably. I’ve finally reached a place where running is actually enjoyable. I’ve finally reached the point where I can bite down and tell myself, “You’re not done yet. Dig deep. Find your inner strength.”

And as this realization hit me, I couldn’t help but smile.

On Sunday I was looking at babies.

In the whole history of Sid Kane, this is an unprecedented event. My usual stance of “Oh holy mother of fuck, why would anyone do THAT to their vagina” was replaced by looks of yearning, looks that has heretofore been reserved for hooker heels and men with really broad shoulders.

I’m talking about desire. For a baby. I Sid Kane, who previously duct taped a nappy to a kid’s ass and has often referred to kids as “rugrats”, am overcome with the sudden desire to have a little one.

 And all I wanted was the simple things

A simple kind of life

And all I needed was a simple man

So I could be a wife

It got so bad that while lounging at La Perla, I ignored any hot men in the near vicinity. Noting my fascination with the little buggers, Cazz finally commented, “You want a life altering experience? How about having one of those?”

Me: I did think about it but to be honest with you Cazz, I don’t think the parents would be too happy with me abducting their kids. Parents are kinda touchy that way.

I always thought I’d be a mom

Sometimes I wish for a mistake

The longer that I wait the more selfish that I get

You seem like you’d be a good dad

*Sigh*

I’m not quite sure what else to tell you guys. I guess I just don’t really want to tell you guys that for the longest time ever I’ve had this image in my head of me standing in front of my bedroom window, watching my husband and kids play soccer. Of course as the years have passed this vision has evolved to include me holding a camera, which has now become as much a part of me as my appendages.

Now all those simple things are simply too complicated for my life

How’d I get so faithful to my freedom?

A selfish kind of life

When all I ever wanted was the simple things

A simple kind of life

(Just reread this and can’t believe how girly and honest I am. And on a public forum no less. God I want to puke.)

Never too soon
Oh reckless abandon,
Like no one’s watching you

Sweet Disposition – The Temper Trap

Let’s go back in time when I was a freshman* at university and Britney Spears bothered to put on panties before leaving the house. Yes, the early 2000s was a time of innocence. Back then I still believed in soul mates, the healing power of chocolate and that a good job was all that was needed to OWN a house. Now the only thing I swear by is the healing power of chocolate – unless of course you’re diabetic, then you’re screwed.

Comic from Saturday Morning Breakfast Cereal.

Anyway, the following story takes places a few months into my first year at uni. I’m in the Bolus Herbarium (Botany Library) searching for my BFFs (En-dee!, Fahiema and Goldilocks**). Not finding them I decide to share a table with a group of black students, one of whom I recognize from one of my classes.

So they’re sitting there having an interesting conversation, none of which I can understand because they were speaking in Xhosa. Of course I wasn’t going to let something as silly as the language barrier stop me from participating in a conversation that appeared to shock the audience.  

Me: Wait? What? I don’t understand you guys. Please repeat in English.

Girl: I was just telling them that I watched this series where a black mother caught her gay son having sex with a guy. She them poured boiling water onto them while they were still busy in the act.

Everyone shakes their heads and mutter something or other. And then the boy said something that shocked me.

Boy: Homosexuality – the white man’s disease.

And I just sat there, wide-eyed and disbelieving as everyone else seemed to agree with him. Until that day I’d always assumed that it was only the uneducated that thought this way – now I know better.  

*South Africans don’t use the term freshman so I have no idea if I’m using the term correctly.

**Goldilocks would later stop speaking to us after we screw her over but that’s a story for a whole different blog post. Actually I think I already blogged this story.

If you’re into hiking, bouldering or rock climbing and are ever in the Western Cape, one of the places you absolutely have to check out is the Cederberg. The Cederberg region is approximately 2 hours north of Cape Town and I’ve gone there every year for the last 4 years. Map of the Cederberg obtained from THIS website.

Permit required to hike up Wolfberg Cracks. A permit cost each of us R25. We didn’t actually make it to the top. We’d started the hike too late (12:00) to reach the top at a reasonably safe hour.  Sign indicating the direction of the route. My calves are so sore this morning. I’d forgotten how much I love THAT feeling – the slight achiness of having your body worked over hard.    

Yes, I actually took pictures of plants.

If I ever have enough money to buy a house WITH a garden, I’m totally planting a bunch of daisies. Yes, yes, I know. Most women don’t spend countless hours of their lives dreaming of planting roses in their lovely gardens. Most women want rose bushes. Personally I’ve never really understood the appeal. I guess to some, rose are this classical flower that simply eminates feminity and sophistication. To me roses are the flower kingdoms most boring creatures ever.

Must admit that I am however a huge fan of D.J. Lawrence’s poem, Gloire de Dijon Roses.

More Cederberg pictures to follow tomorrow.

What did you guys get up to this weekend?

lovin u is like a song i replay every 3 minutes and 30 seconds of every day
and every chorus is written for us
to recite every beautiful melody of devotion
every night
Good lovin – Bob Marley feat Lauren Hill

So yesterday I was copying and pasting my blog from MSWord when I noticed something strange. According to my Dashboard I have one whole new follower – someone who hasn’t been coerced into reading my blog. Now there is the possibility that this new follower might have mixing her meds (Xanax and Ritalin, perhaps?) when she decided to become a follower and might soon regret her decision, as much as my parents regret bringing me into the world.

Can we all welcome Flippingswizzle08 to the cult? Oh my, did I say cult? We’re not a cult. I mean I’m not going to ask you to give up all your personal belongings and send all your money my way, not unless you feel really, really strongly about it. I’m all about freedom of expression especially if it makes me richer.

Anyway, I wish that I had a more coherent piece of writing for you but all I have is a couple of links and random thoughts. Sorry.

I was over at Chelsea’s blog yesterday and she was talking about a “bucket” list. Here are some of the things that I’d like to do:
1) Write a book
2) Finish my MSc (right now that isn’t going too well)
3) Ride an elephant
4) Obtain my scuba diving license
5) Explore the jungles of Ecuador
6) Ride in a hot air balloon
7) Learn how to salsa
Speak Spanish
What’s on your list?

And over at Mirage’s blog we have photos of some awesome shoes.