Wednesday, November 9, 2011
Life is but a series of good days and bad days...
Wow...what an incredibly awesome day I had today! Cleaned the flat, went to gym...had a really good and ENJOYABLE workout (say whaaat?!?!), cooked a delish pasta, took the pooch for a looong walk, prepared a radio piece, wrote an audition soliloquy and then did my absolute favourite thing in the world to do...watched test cricket (SA vs. Australia)! And then I came to this really important realisation...life is but a series of good days and bad days. I found such comfort in the simplicity of it all. Then I basked in the glory of my "Ah moment" and just HAD to blog about it...cos that's just what we do!
Wednesday, May 4, 2011
Happiness is…
There are those who believe that happiness is a state of mind. These are generally the same people who subscribe to the ideology that it is the power of positive thinking that invokes a sense of happiness and contentment in an otherwise miserable existence. Then there are those who believe that happiness comes from achieving one’s goals, acquiring wealth and utilizing said wealth to realize the dreams one has nurtured since childhood – dreams of flashy sports cars, expensive and elaborately decorated mansions in affluent neighbourhoods, designer clothing and membership to the most elite country club. In short, the ‘top billing’ lifestyle that only a vulgar excess of money can bring. These people are usually the ones who would do anything to clinch the deal or get their hands on the largest piece of the profit pie.
Me, I believe that happiness is a secret your heart keeps. It can be likened to a coy young bride who reveals only the slightest glimpses of skin on her wedding day. She looks so beautiful, pure and attractive. This is not the type of attraction that leads to a one night stand…not lust. This is love, for a lifetime. He knows all that he could have when he decides to spend the rest of his life loving that girl. But he has to work for it, work for her affection. It’s the same way with happiness. It’s not a quick fix, a feeling we can summon whenever we are feeling like life has got the better of us. Happiness, you may be amazed to hear, is not a “pick-me-upper.” It’s in the moments we spend in the midst of good friends and good conversation, in the long summer days spent with family on the beach, in the hours spent showering our loyal and loving dogs with the attention and affection they so desperately desire and deserve for being there when no-one else was, in the lazy mornings we waste in front of the television in our pyjamas, eating a bowl of cornflakes. It’s in the loud, action packed Saturday afternoons enjoyed at sports bars amongst fellow sports fans, wearing our colours and watching our favourite teams battling it out on the soccer/cricket/rugby field for pride and glory and in the Sunday afternoon naps we steal after a big, greasy, indulgent breakfast. It’s in hearing an old song that transports you to a time gone by, or in seeing that the boyband of your high school fantasies has reunited to do another tour – except now they’re all men, balding and fat with no business claiming to be a boyband any longer. It’s in the Christmas carols that take us back to when we were kids, putting out milk and cookies for Santa Claus.
It’s in the everyday moments, and not necessarily in every momentous day. Happiness is there, inside every one of us. All we have to do is fine-tune the eyes of our soul to sneak a glance at those fleeting moments when our heart reveals a part of the secret…
Me, I believe that happiness is a secret your heart keeps. It can be likened to a coy young bride who reveals only the slightest glimpses of skin on her wedding day. She looks so beautiful, pure and attractive. This is not the type of attraction that leads to a one night stand…not lust. This is love, for a lifetime. He knows all that he could have when he decides to spend the rest of his life loving that girl. But he has to work for it, work for her affection. It’s the same way with happiness. It’s not a quick fix, a feeling we can summon whenever we are feeling like life has got the better of us. Happiness, you may be amazed to hear, is not a “pick-me-upper.” It’s in the moments we spend in the midst of good friends and good conversation, in the long summer days spent with family on the beach, in the hours spent showering our loyal and loving dogs with the attention and affection they so desperately desire and deserve for being there when no-one else was, in the lazy mornings we waste in front of the television in our pyjamas, eating a bowl of cornflakes. It’s in the loud, action packed Saturday afternoons enjoyed at sports bars amongst fellow sports fans, wearing our colours and watching our favourite teams battling it out on the soccer/cricket/rugby field for pride and glory and in the Sunday afternoon naps we steal after a big, greasy, indulgent breakfast. It’s in hearing an old song that transports you to a time gone by, or in seeing that the boyband of your high school fantasies has reunited to do another tour – except now they’re all men, balding and fat with no business claiming to be a boyband any longer. It’s in the Christmas carols that take us back to when we were kids, putting out milk and cookies for Santa Claus.
It’s in the everyday moments, and not necessarily in every momentous day. Happiness is there, inside every one of us. All we have to do is fine-tune the eyes of our soul to sneak a glance at those fleeting moments when our heart reveals a part of the secret…
Life is a funny thing…
I’ve travelled down this road in my mind so many times…visualizing every step of the way; every major milestone. I thought I knew how things would turn out, or at very least the closest possible permutation.
See as children we all have dreams, which turn into hopes by the time we hit high school. These hopes form the basis of goals when we embark on the university journey, and by the time we start our first job they’ve usually evolved into a checklist.
When I was a child I had dreams of being a doctor, or a politician, or a singer, or a Mickey Mouse Club Mouseketeer. By high-school, I had taken to idolizing the Mousketeers, but I realized I couldn’t be one…it just wasn’t going to happen. I was not a blond-haired, blue-eyed beauty queen wannabe from a small town in Texas, Arkansas or Louisiana…and I didn’t have a single parent bussing me around the American countryside to audition for everything and the Cat’s Pyjamas! So I studied subjects that would help me fulfil my hopes of becoming a doctor. By this point all my family and their family had caught onto this dream and harboured and nurtured and fed it every chance they got. I thrived on the idea of helping people and said the things everyone wanted to hear. School was never a struggle, but perhaps if I had taken subjects that I was passionate about, I may have been more inspired to study harder. Instead, I just plodded along and most of high school, as enjoyable as it was, is now a vague and distant memory.
I didn’t get into medical school because of a quota system to regulate the opportunity in a once apartheid-ruled state. So I took the next best thing – Biomedical Science. A year of plants, plants and more plants…NOT EXACTLY what I had in mind! After failing my Chemistry theory exam miserably (17%) to be exact, I decided to opt for laziness and went the route of a private party college, 3 hours of lectures a day…and completed my B.Com in Applied Economics.
Then I went to London for two amazing years but had to return to sunny (did I mention I hate the sun) South Africa thanks once again to the fact that I was born in this once apartheid-ruled state and I have no British ancestry.
After a few years of Marketing Communications, which I found frightfully enjoyable, I am now a Research Executive...go figure!
So now I am 27. A researcher, not a doctor. I still love to sing, but alas after 3 Idols appearances still not a famous singer. Where I once had dreams of being a beautiful bride at my winter wonderland white wedding at 27, I don’t even know one guy I would consider spending forever with (forever is a LOOOOOONG time). I don’t drive a Matte black BMW X5 with titanium spinners and blacked out windows. And I don’t live on a palatial estate with 15 bedrooms and a grass tennis court for a lawn in Kent.
So it begs the question, do there exist people in this strange world of ours whose lives turn out exactly as they planned? And if so, how do they do it? And if not, well…life is a funny thing, isn’t it?
See as children we all have dreams, which turn into hopes by the time we hit high school. These hopes form the basis of goals when we embark on the university journey, and by the time we start our first job they’ve usually evolved into a checklist.
When I was a child I had dreams of being a doctor, or a politician, or a singer, or a Mickey Mouse Club Mouseketeer. By high-school, I had taken to idolizing the Mousketeers, but I realized I couldn’t be one…it just wasn’t going to happen. I was not a blond-haired, blue-eyed beauty queen wannabe from a small town in Texas, Arkansas or Louisiana…and I didn’t have a single parent bussing me around the American countryside to audition for everything and the Cat’s Pyjamas! So I studied subjects that would help me fulfil my hopes of becoming a doctor. By this point all my family and their family had caught onto this dream and harboured and nurtured and fed it every chance they got. I thrived on the idea of helping people and said the things everyone wanted to hear. School was never a struggle, but perhaps if I had taken subjects that I was passionate about, I may have been more inspired to study harder. Instead, I just plodded along and most of high school, as enjoyable as it was, is now a vague and distant memory.
I didn’t get into medical school because of a quota system to regulate the opportunity in a once apartheid-ruled state. So I took the next best thing – Biomedical Science. A year of plants, plants and more plants…NOT EXACTLY what I had in mind! After failing my Chemistry theory exam miserably (17%) to be exact, I decided to opt for laziness and went the route of a private party college, 3 hours of lectures a day…and completed my B.Com in Applied Economics.
Then I went to London for two amazing years but had to return to sunny (did I mention I hate the sun) South Africa thanks once again to the fact that I was born in this once apartheid-ruled state and I have no British ancestry.
After a few years of Marketing Communications, which I found frightfully enjoyable, I am now a Research Executive...go figure!
So now I am 27. A researcher, not a doctor. I still love to sing, but alas after 3 Idols appearances still not a famous singer. Where I once had dreams of being a beautiful bride at my winter wonderland white wedding at 27, I don’t even know one guy I would consider spending forever with (forever is a LOOOOOONG time). I don’t drive a Matte black BMW X5 with titanium spinners and blacked out windows. And I don’t live on a palatial estate with 15 bedrooms and a grass tennis court for a lawn in Kent.
So it begs the question, do there exist people in this strange world of ours whose lives turn out exactly as they planned? And if so, how do they do it? And if not, well…life is a funny thing, isn’t it?
For Club or Country…
There are 50 million South Africans. Of that, approximately 24.5 million are male. To break it down further, about 13 million, give or take a few, are between the ages of 16 and 35 years old. There are 11 places in the national cricket team. 5 of those are pretty much cemented. This leaves 6 much coveted spots to be fought over by these millions.
Cricket is widely regarded as the unofficial national sport of South Africa. It is the second most popular sport in the country, and the most popular amongst English-speaking nationals. School boys dream of walking out onto the pitch at the Wanderers, dressed in the “Green and Gold,” representing the land of their birth. They envision themselves stepping up to the crease; Gunn & Moore bat in hand (the bat of choice for most South Africans), in crisp whites, Protea emblem proudly emblazoned on their chest, playing England in a test at Lords.
These are the dreams of a nation who give their all to win, be it representing their school, province or South Africa. Their talents are cultivated in the hopes that they will one day play for the Proteas. Then one day a Pakistani gets selected to play in the World Cup team. I don’t mean for this to sound xenophobic in any way, but it hardly seems fair for the millions of South African boys who have toiled under the African sun, sacrificed weekends, nights out, childhood fun and even academics to pay their dues to the South African cricketing fraternity, with their eyes ever-fixed on the ultimate prize-representing their country. In essence, the selection of a Pakistani has robbed a South African of their dream, their place in the national side. I am all for the idea that we need to pick the best eleven and give our country the best chance at winning the World Cup. But this is the WORLD CUP. This is not the IPL or any other such franchise league. This is the most prestigious trophy in world cricket. It is a tournament played by countries. Some reports on the 2011 World Cup state that there are no fewer than 25 South African born players in this year’s tournament. In essence, South Africa could have two squads playing in this World Cup. Surely then, this cannot be labelled a tournament of countries. South Africa should be represented by the best eleven South African cricketers, India by the best Indians, the Netherlands by the best Dutch players and England by the best English players and so on and so forth.
I have absolutely nothing against Imraan Tahir, he seems a very talented, more than capable cricketer. But there are plenty leagues in the world for cricketers to be transferred and paid what they are worth. The World Cup, however, should showcase the best homegrown talent that each country has to offer.
Cricket is widely regarded as the unofficial national sport of South Africa. It is the second most popular sport in the country, and the most popular amongst English-speaking nationals. School boys dream of walking out onto the pitch at the Wanderers, dressed in the “Green and Gold,” representing the land of their birth. They envision themselves stepping up to the crease; Gunn & Moore bat in hand (the bat of choice for most South Africans), in crisp whites, Protea emblem proudly emblazoned on their chest, playing England in a test at Lords.
These are the dreams of a nation who give their all to win, be it representing their school, province or South Africa. Their talents are cultivated in the hopes that they will one day play for the Proteas. Then one day a Pakistani gets selected to play in the World Cup team. I don’t mean for this to sound xenophobic in any way, but it hardly seems fair for the millions of South African boys who have toiled under the African sun, sacrificed weekends, nights out, childhood fun and even academics to pay their dues to the South African cricketing fraternity, with their eyes ever-fixed on the ultimate prize-representing their country. In essence, the selection of a Pakistani has robbed a South African of their dream, their place in the national side. I am all for the idea that we need to pick the best eleven and give our country the best chance at winning the World Cup. But this is the WORLD CUP. This is not the IPL or any other such franchise league. This is the most prestigious trophy in world cricket. It is a tournament played by countries. Some reports on the 2011 World Cup state that there are no fewer than 25 South African born players in this year’s tournament. In essence, South Africa could have two squads playing in this World Cup. Surely then, this cannot be labelled a tournament of countries. South Africa should be represented by the best eleven South African cricketers, India by the best Indians, the Netherlands by the best Dutch players and England by the best English players and so on and so forth.
I have absolutely nothing against Imraan Tahir, he seems a very talented, more than capable cricketer. But there are plenty leagues in the world for cricketers to be transferred and paid what they are worth. The World Cup, however, should showcase the best homegrown talent that each country has to offer.
Subscribe to:
Comments (Atom)