Half A Cent Of Opinion.

I hate how the greatest minds that will eventually come out of this generation are being fed this idea that to be great, you need to fit into this box that has been designed for you by minds that lost their relevance long ago. I watch how we think, how we perceive things and the way we go about doing the things we do on the day to day. The archaic practices of the past seem to cling to us like moss. We don't fully realise just how they slowly grow on us, manifesting themselves in the way we speak and see things until it's too late and they've blinded us completely.

I'm still building up my understanding in all of this. I'm not fully weighing in on the situation right now, that will come later because I don't have all the information I feel I need to be fully capable to have an informed opinion.

Just watching this situation in Stellenbosch, actually, the country as a whole, I can't help but feel saddened. I'm at a loss of words when I see the new outrage that has been brought up. If it isn't students fighting one another to tell the other why their outrage is insignificant, it's grown men and women trying to point out why others should be seen and feel insignificant. If there's one thing I cannot stand, it is the type of person who comes to you guns blazing, fixing to force feed you their deeply ingrained doctrine. I understand that everyone has a differing view and opinion to the next person and that, I am more than okay with, it's when people are not willing to see and understand that everyone will have a differing opinion and theirs isn't necessarily the correct one when the problem arises. There is nothing stopping you from bringing across what you believe and in the same turn of the coin, taking in and understanding what I believe too. It really isn't that hard. I can only put it down to a pigheaded, blind ignorance and what could possibly be fear.

You cannot tell me all these issues we see around the country do not stem from a sense of fear. The "Afrikaaner"(and I'm only picking on them because of the relevance) in South Africa fears that his culture is dying. As the youngest in the world, it would make sense for it to be wiped out if it were not given enough nourishment. As transformation comes, this plays on the mind and in an effort to safeguard what they hold dear, they lash out. In an effort to keep their sense of belonging intact, they try to undermine those trying to find their feet and in doing so, begin to exclude not only the people of colour in the country, but also the English speaking white South African. Most of the focus though, unfortunately, is thrown on race and it becomes a savage, fecal flinging match between the two sides and in a place like Stellies for example, there is no hope. How can you as a South African, turn to another and tell them they are not good enough to be at a place where they are more than able to afford and get through academically and tell them they don't belong just because they're of another skin colour? Is this not ignorance? Is this not a fear of change?

 But what gets me is this. How can these new minds, these fresh ideas, these new visions that we need to keep this wonderful country afloat be shut down like this? By an institution that many find to be one of the very best. How can you possibly justify giving certain learning packages in one language and then be shocked when people fail to understand? English, as we all know, is the universal accepted medium and I would understand if things came as standard in English and then other language options were given, with the very same material in them like any other right thinking university would do. Many a time I've heard from friend, black an white, how certain things get left out of certain packages and they then have to scramble to find all they need. It's almost as if the creative is being killed by the rigid codes of the Institution.

Of course this is only my opinion on something I am still wrapping my head around but what I fear is that by the time I do, it would be too late.

Full Transcript of Kanye West's speech at the VMAs.

“Bro. Bro! Listen to the kids. First of all, thank you, Taylor, for being so gracious and giving me this award this evening.

And I often think back to the first day I met you also. You know I think about when I’m in the grocery store with my daughter and I have a really great conversation about fresh juice… and at the end they say, ’Oh, you’re not that bad after all!’ And like I think about it sometimes. … It crosses my mind a little bit like when I go to a baseball game and 60,000 people boo me. Crosses my mind a little bit.

And I think if I had to do it all over again what would I have done? Would I have worn a leather shirt? Would I have drank half a bottle of Hennessy and gave the rest of it to the audience? Ya’ll know ya’ll drank that bottle too! If I had a daughter at that time would I have went on stage and grabbed the mic from someone else’s? You know, this arena tomorrow it’s gonna be a completely different setup. Some concert, something like that. The stage will be gone. After that night, the stage was gone, but the effect that it had on people remained.

The … The problem was the contradiction. The contradiction is I do fight for artists, but in that fight I somehow was disrespectful to artists. I didn’t know how to say the right thing, the perfect thing. I just … I sat at the Grammys and saw Justin Timberlake and Cee-Lo lose. Gnarls Barkley and the FutureLove … SexyBack album … and Justin, I ain’t trying to put you on blast, but I saw that man in tears, bro. You know, and I was thinking, like, ’He deserved to win Album of the Year!'”

And this small box that we are as the entertainers of the evening … How could you explain that? Sometimes I feel like all this s–t they run about beef and all that? Sometimes I feel like I died for the artist’s opinion. For artists to be able to have an opinion after they were successful. I’m not no politician, bro!

Look at that. You know how many times MTV ran that footage again? ’Cause it got them more ratings? You know how many times they announced Taylor was going to give me the award ’cause it got them more ratings? Listen to the kids, bro! I still don’t understand awards shows. I don’t understand how they get five people who worked their entire life … sold records, sold concert tickets to come stand on the carpet and for the first time in they life be judged on the chopping block and have the opportunity to be considered a loser! I don’t understand it, bruh!

I don’t understand when the biggest album, or the biggest video … I’ve been conflicted, bro. I just wanted people to like me more. “But fuck that, bro! 2015! I will die for the art! For what I believe in. And the art ain’t always gonna be polite! Ya’ll might be thinking right now, ’Did he smoke something before he came out here?’ The answer is yes, I rolled up a little something. I knocked the edge off!

I don’t know what’s gonna happen tonight, I don’t know what’s gonna happen tomorrow, bro. But all I can say to my artists, to my fellow artists: Just worry how you feel at the time, man. Just worry about how you feel and don’t NEVER … you know what I’m saying? I’m confident. I believe in myself. We the millennials, bro. This is a new mentality. We’re not gonna control our kids with brands. We not gonna teach low self-esteem and hate to our kids. We gonna teach our kids that they can be something. We gonna teach our kids that they can stand up for theyself! We gonna teach our kids to believe in themselves!”

If my grandfather was here right now he would not let me back down! I don’t know I’m fittin’ to lose after this. It don’t matter though, cuz it ain’t about me. It’s about ideas, bro. New ideas. People with ideas. People who believe in truth. And yes, as you probably could have guessed by this moment, I have decided in 2020 to run for president.”

Catfishery

When I'm at home, there are three things I enjoy doing more than anything else. Playing Xbox, listening to music and watching strange TV programs. From 9pm things on TV start to turn weird and you find some pretty interesting shows. Just last night I watched a show on people who were trying to survive in the jungle with no clothes on. It makes you wonder what goes on in these TV show pitch meetings. 

"We need an idea for a new type of survival program"

"I know. Let's throw two random strangers into the wild

With no help, crew or tools."

"Yeah, I don't know. Seems a bit dated."

"Well, what if they had no clothes on?"

"Brilliant! We have a winner!"

I've been off work for the last two days and decided to catch up on all my PVR recordings from the last few weeks. I've collected about 6 new episodes of Catfish and they were calling my name. Now if you don't know, I love Catfish. I can honestly watch that show for hours upon hours and never get bored. It always blows my mind how people get swept up into these internet lies. I'm also astonished at the types of people that get dragged out from behind their desktop lies. Some of the characters on the show really make me wonder if people in parts of America have taken to mating with vegetables. 

How can they be so twisted in the head? 

I watched an episode where this girl was using the pictures of another girl and was telling people to go kill themselves and disgusting things like that. In this day and age, with all the mental problems that people suffer, how can you say hurtful things to people. What if these people were suicidal and that was the straw that broke the camel's back? When they finally met her, she was this cheerful, almost psychotic teenage girl that saw absolutely nothing wrong with what she had done. She even went as far as to say that she was angry with the girl whose pictures she had stolen because she had gone and told everyone that they were being fooled. 

How messed up is your life, how truly cooked in the head are you, for you to pretend to be someone else on the Internet and spin a web of lies so intricate that it becomes your life? When do you finally realise that what you're doing is completely messed up and that maybe you should just switch the ADSL off for a few days. 

Another thing I love about Catfish is just how Nev and Max go about things. Nev is the softer one. He's all, "Hey let's be understanding and open minded" and Max really is like any one of us, he's very much "What the fuck!?" I think if I had to be on the show with them I'd also be very much "what the fuck." I often wonder how they manage to keep their cool and process these things because often, the things I see on that show just wrinkle my brain. I remember there was an episode where this guy pretended to be a musician and conned people out of thousands of dollars. How and why would you be doing that my dude? I would throw the most vicious hands known to man. The amount of people I would have punched on Catfish would be longer than the amounts of people Jet Li has beaten in his movies. 

Anyway, I've completely lost what the actual point of this was. I think this was meant to be about my nightly routine but I got carried away on a Catfish tangent. Now I've lost the point of this. Eh. I think I'll just watch another episode. 

Greek Tragedy - The Wombats.

We're smashing mics in karaoke bars

You're running late with half your makeup on

This method acting might pay our bills

But soon enough they'll be a different role to fill

I love this feeling

But I hate this part

I wanted this to work so much

I drew up our plans on a chart

Cars are flipping, I'm in hot pursuit

My character's strong, but my head is loose

She hits like ecstasy

Comes up and bangs the sense out of me

The tarot cards say it's not so bad

And the blades rotate, there's just no landing pad

And better have said it, but darling you're the

best

I'm just tired of falling up the penrose steps

I hate this feeling

But I love this part

She really wants to make it work

And I clearly want to let it start

We'll build a waterslide

As soon as I get home

Oh and she hits like ecstasy

Comes up and bangs the sense out of me

It's wrong, but surely worst to leave

And she hits like ecstasy

So free up the cheaper seats

Here comes the Greek Tragedy

...

I've been reading By The River Piedra I Sat Down And Wept by Paulo Coelho and I've got to tell you, it's ruined me.

Over the last couple of months, I've been inaccessible emotionally. There was no way of getting any form of rise from me. I've barely registered any sort of affection but after just a few days of reading this, I feel as open and as raw as roadkill. If you don't know the story, it's about a woman who rekindles a love with her childhood friend who is now a man of spiritual brilliance. It takes place in the space of a week, a roller coaster of denying, accepting and - from what I've been told since I haven't finished it due to wanting to make it last as long as possible- losing love.

Love is a many strange thing. I've only ever really loved twice in my years - but I think I might be sitting on three - and to be honest with you, as great as those times were, I can only remember the bad bits. I know everything wasn't all bad. I know that I was happy and that I wanted nothing more than what i was feeling at the time but every time I think back to those times, I find myself shivering slightly and hoping to never go back there again. I think this is why I've been so emotionally closed. I was never great at dealing with the loss. This book has highlighted a lot of points that have struck a chord with me. I've really changed the way I look at this whole love business.  I used to think that it took time to fall in love. I used to think that it was impossible to just suddenly meet someone and be head over heels with them.

 That was how it was with my first love. We were friends for ages and with time we developed feelings for one another and ended up being together and it was really great. The second time around though, I felt it almost instantly. I didn't know quite what to make of it and because of that, I tried my best to control it. I didn't accept it for what it was and I ended up turning something great into a sour mess. The thing about love is that it comes in like a strong wind. You simply can't stop it no matter how hard you try.

Right now I find myself in a quandary. I'm faced with a situation that is less than ideal. I'm faced with what is possibly an unrequited love. There is nothing more painful, or so I'm told, as an unrequited love. Personally, I refuse to think of this as anything more than a slight infatuation because I refuse to accept that I could find myself in a situation where I could not get the outcome I wanted - it's selfish I know, but this is my corner of the world - and so it can't be real. The problem is, I'm faced with all the telltale signs of my loves gone by and that's what worries me. I don't know if I can handle this right now. Why must I deal with this when I still have so many things in my life that I need to sort out. I'm trying to build my brand up, focus on me, I can't have feelings for someone else plaguing and hindering my progress.

Having found the switch that has opened me up to all these feelings, I know I'm handling the spill out terribly but right now I'm in a state of panic. The best way to deal with this would be to deal with it head on. Admit to myself where I stand and then work it out. But I won't, at least I don't think I will. Right now, I'lI probably ignore it till it goes away or drives me insane and makes me act the fool. I know this isn't the way to go about it but trying to get my head around all this is bugging me out.

It helps having this rant out. My black book is full of a million other things that are so far beyond this manchild rant that I'd be ashamed to put it in there. In time I'lI have a solution.

This Came Out At 5.

It's 4:20 am. Here I sit, not asleep. The house is dead quiet except for the sounds of my fingers on these keys.

Just came from another shift at Live. Well we got in at about 3am but I've been sat here, mind as mush and limbs like soggy noodles, unable to get myself in a state where sleep would finally wash over me. I think it may be the litre of energy drinks I had at work coming back to haunt me. In hindsight, that wasn't the smartest of moves on my behalf but I definitely needed to pick up my energy levels or I would've shrunk deep into myself and been completely useless.

I haven't blogged in a while. I've pushed out drivel and such, for the sake of keeping this thing active but I haven't done a blog. By blog, I mean a brief summary of what's been going on in my days. Actually, maybe I have. I can't really say if I'm making much sense or not, I just feel like I haven't been very honest and open lately.

But ya, what's been happening with Msizi these past couple of weeks. Well, to begin with, I think I've finally found what I want to do. This year has been a topsy turvy year for me. 2014 has not gone as I envisioned. I came into it thinking I knew myself and what I wanted to do with my days but as the year progressed, I realized that I actually had no idea what I was doing. It feels like for large parts of the year, I was flying blind with no direction, no purpose. I was just a bystander on this roller coaster I call my life. I've had to come to terms with a few things, my commitment phobia being one of them. If there's one thing I can say about myself, it's that I fear commitment. I don't know why. I just struggle to commit to something fully. I don't even know if I'll commit to finishing this post. It's gotten to the point where I've started to drive myself insane. It really isn't that hard to start something and see it through. It's not that I can't. I know I can. I know I have it in me to do anything I set my mind to. I could set fire to the ocean if I really wanted to and was willing to just focus. It's just that I'm very impatient and it is a disgusting trait to have and let rule me. I've been working on it and aim to do so, to keep it in check for as long as I possibly can.

I was speaking to a friend the other day, Rogan. He said something to me that has stuck with me and has been the driving force behind me getting my head out my arse and moving forwards. He asked me what I enjoyed doing. No, he asked me what it was that I really enjoyed doing. Something that brings me joy in it's purest form. Something that puts a smile on my face and lifts me, putting me on the highest crest of a wave of endorphins. I told him what I really enjoyed doing was writing and his answer to that was so simple and concise, it rang through my whole being. He said, "Then write. Just write as much as you can." I don't know why it was so hectic but it honestly felt like I was hearing those words for the first time. It felt like good to have someone ask me that and then be so honest with their response. I don't know why but it felt like if I didn't heed what he was saying, I would be cheating myself out of a golden opportunity. I would be cheating myself out of happiness.

I've been brushing up on my writing. I've been investing time in reading books. I've been writing in my Black Book. I've been sniffing at dictionaries like a pig looking for truffles. Basically, I've been doing everything I possibly can to help me write. It's gotten to a point where I've decided that maybe it's time I took the idea of moving on out this city seriously. I obviously don't think that leaving Durban would make me any better at this, for all I know it could make things worse but I feel like I've exhausted the adventures I could have within these four walls and it's time I ventured off and saw what else this country has to offer. I've had the feeling of living in a stagnant state for far too long. I've seen the social circles, I've been to all the places, I've done all there is to do. For a very long time I felt like this was it. Now I think it's time I got my head straight and fluff out my wings a bit.

Another thing that has inspired me to rein myself in and get going is Sharice. I've seen the girl go from being an actual limpet on the side of Tyler and become her own person. She's done so well for herself in becoming her own person that I cannot contain the pride I feel when I think of her. From someone who didn't even know what she was going to do with herself a year ago, she's turned around and started following her passion and is now living a life that is paid for by it. I think that's wonderful. She left her comfort zone, stuck through it and has come out on the other side smelling like roses. I know if I put all of this potential to use, I could also do something similar.

I've made a promise to myself that it's time to get serious with what I love. It's time to put all my time and devotion into making myself a better person, someone I can look on in the late hours and be proud of. It's a promise I intend on keeping and putting it up here, all of this, was really more of a reminder than anything. I don't know why but there's something about having things written on here that makes them seem so final to me.

Black Books #1

Living on a pack a day, yellow you tarnish. You feel there's justice in the things you say but you're speaking in silence.

Alone he left you, abrupt. After you poured out your soul. The dam burst from your chest. It's not fair. You feel like no one should see you like this but there he is, a mix of cool and uncouth, teetering between fight or flight. He's not said anything new. His words have all come before. He's not done what he should, he's barely opened up his doors. And yet he expects you to breathe out all you hold dear. All you have. All you are. All you'll ever be.

It's not fair. It's not right. It's not normal. It's not kosher. Who is this fiend that slips through the night, knocking over your jars, barely apologising as he slips through your fingers once more? Who is this that wants to hold you in the open palm of his hand but not promising it won't turn into a cleched fist? Who is he and why does he fascinate your mind and why does he take up all your time.

Stop All That Coon Ish.

We live in a funny world.

Today, a normal Sunday in suburbia, a black boy found himself shifting uncomfortably on his couch with latent rage and contempt for those of his own kind.

Today, I was pissed off.

I was on Twitter, getting these fire flame tweets out about F1 and general nonsensical rubbish I tend to tweet about and I came across a few pictures from HCP. HCP is this thing that was held in Joburg called Homecoming Picnic. Basically, from my understanding, it's just a gigantic piss up for the local natives. Now I know you're thinking,  "Well why are you angry Msizi? I mean, you hate Joburg and weren't even there so why does it bother you?"

Well, what bothers me is this. There was a picture of some girl who had passed out on the ground from either drinking too much or mixing up her uppers and downers, I don't know, but people were literally dragging her through the proverbial mud with their comments. Someone went as far as to find a picture of her when she was still fine and functional and made a before and after type deal. Ok, I understand it's funny and what not if you're there at the time and all but to go as far as expose her like that on social media is a bit sus in my eyes.

Firstly, there was some oke who shat himself and yes he got washed through the manual retweets too but he wasn't cut up anywhere near as much as this girl was. I don't know this girl and obviously if she managed to get herself in such a state then a bit of abuse can be warranted, I mean we're all going to judge the over drunk person regardless of how understanding we think we are but do so in such a way that's not overboard. Not only does she have to wake up with the world's largest headache and monstrous memory gaps with the shame of a million gophers on her head but now she must deal with being torn into and being called all sorts of names?  Nah man.

There's a definite double standard at play here. If this was a guy then it'd be laughed off and never brought up again unless in passing. A FULLY GROWN MAN SHAT HIMSELF AND PASSED OUT IN HIS OWN EXCREMENT AND NOTHING IS BEING SAID BUT YOU HAVE THE TIME TO CALL THIS GIRL THE KINDS OF NAMES THAT WOULD MAKE JON VLISMAS BLUSH? I just don't get it. How can that be okay?

I don't get black people sometimes. I mean I love you guys but sometimes you're a bunch of coons. I hate the word coon. Call me it all but don't call me that. To me, a coon is as ignorant as they come. A simple waste of face and character. The kind of black people that send us back years in this battle for equality, those are coons. People who do and say the kind of things that lead us to being regarded as second rate citizens. I was just going through my Timeline and looking at tweets from people I followed and regarded as somewhat open minded and was shocked to see just how easily they fell into the coon behaviour traps. I mean if you're a woman, what makes you think it's fine to climb into another woman who clearly had a lapse of better judgement and now finds themself in a not so pleasant situation. We don't know what happened. Maybe she got her drink spiked. Maybe someone took advantage of her while she was out of it. Who knows, but you can sit there and call her what you want without thinking, meanwhile she could be facing all kinds of trauma. Way to kick your fellow man whilst they're done. Bravo to you.

I'd never go to such a thing because I know what they can be like. I know the types of vultures that sit and prey on the slipping. I know the types who will find whatever they can so they can bathe in retweets for a day. Those kinds of events are breeding grounds for the most coonish of activities, and then those same people will turn around and cry foul when it happens to them. Miss me with all that, please.

Hunger Is Real.

That douchebag mosquito is back. Seriously, I don't know how it didn't get its fill of my blood last night. I swear it probably got away with 15 pints of my blood and a dainty little take-away satchet for the road.

Anyway, forget that nuisance. I understand what hunger feels like. Now I thought I knew what being hungry was like, I mean I've eaten before so obviously I must've felt hungry right? Well not quite. See every time I ate, I ate because it was eating time and it would make sense to eat. Lately though I've been eating because I genuinely need it.

4 or 5 times a week for the past month (minus this one because we've had builders in and I've had to take on the role of honorary foreman) I spend 3 hours a day in a vest and trainers, sweating and kicking and lunging and lifting and doing all the sort of things that really burn energy. I've been mad dedicated to my tracksuit and trainers life that it's become the staple of my daily routine. After doing all that for a large chunk of my day, my body literally cries out in pain and threatens to lay charges against me. This is what introduced me to hunger.

The first time this happened, I honestly thought I was dying. I didn't know what was cutting. Why did I suddenly have what felt like a concentration of all the black holes in our solar system, living in my body? Why was my stomach telling me the whole plotline to every Police Academy movie? I thought I was going to fall over and die on the spot. There I'd be, laid to rest with my headstone reading, "Here lies Msizi, the result of being poes hungry."

Being hungry is up there as one of the worst feelings in the world. I used to be able to survive for hours without food because I used to never do anything but now I can't go a few hours without having to chow down. I don't eat copious amounts of food or anything. I have my usual 3 meals with fruit smoothies and other things in between. I have to gi e props to the inventor of tbe toaster. I hope that genius is still getting mad action in the afterlife because what he did for me, I'll never be able to truly explain. I go blank if o can't have toast. Toast is up there with water for me as something we all need. If I want a sweet snack, put some jam on that stuff. If I'm going savoury then some bovril and cheese. Toast is without a doubt my most favourite form of bread. I also have to give a shout out to Koo baked beans. Aaaahhhhh man. I thought I knew what baked beans tasted like but honestly I knew nothing. I was like Stevie Wonder trying to explain the colour blue. Usually I'd get a tin or two of Rhodes beans and that was good for 4 daya or so but the other day my mom brought home a six pack of Koo beans and my whole head exploded. I had some earlier and now I want more.

Anyway, I guess after writing all that I can see why this damn mosquito is back here for seconds. I hate the feeling of being hungry and I honestly wouldn't wish it upon anyone because when your body doesn't have food, it literally starts to eat itself. There is no feeling I hate more than my own body eating away at itself. I'm hungry again. I must feed.

Little Black Book.

There's a mosquito flying through my room right now. I can only hazard a guess that she's after my blood. I mean it is feeding time and I have blood that tastes like the sweetest scarlet nectar. It's the Oros to mosquitoes. It's the Rolls Royce of mosquito feed. It's top tier 5 Michelin star fare.

I've been meaning to get myself a little black book where I can write all my strange thoughts and notions. People have been writing down their thoughts since the first caveman realised a buffalo bone could leave a mark on a rock face. People have been jotting things down for millennia, regardless of what it is. It doesn't really matter what you have to say, whether you're telling the future or just writing about a silly satan creature trying to suck your blood. Basically I just wanted something to take the place of a blog.

Having a blog is great and all. I mean I've kept this thing for years now. I haven't been as great as I once was it keeping it running but I've made an effort here or there. Having a little diary of sorts though would be epic. There's just something about writing words on page that really is freeing. I hate sounding cliche but it is true. Sometimes when I find myself with nothing to do I'll get out my exam pad and just write. I have no set plan or anything, I just free flow until my hand is tired or something else calls for my attention. Typing things out is nothing quite like it. I sometimes sit in front of my computer trying to find things to say and they all cling to the dark corners of my mind, hiding from the spot light of attention that is trying to bring the out onto those plastic keys. Give me a pen and words will fight over one another to be next down that ink-filled tube, to be neatly laid out on that lined bed of paper.

These days I guess I've just been feeling like doing things the old school way isn't so bad. I know a little black book will steal away from what comes up here but if I do happen to pen a gem, it's not like I could ever stop it finding its way here. I love myself too much to deprive myself the pleasure of going over this years from now and being like, "Waaaay, I wrote that".

I've chased the mosquito away with a desk fan. My genius knows no bounds.