The secret

I have been reading about the secret since the book was given to me by a friend of a friend. Randomly, as though fate had intervined in my life.
I needed it and it appeared.
Granted, I am one of the most cynical and most pessimistic person you could find, hope never leaves my side. I am so afraid of rejection and disappointment that I continually avoid situations where I could lose.
I have been though hell and back. I have felt unwanted and unloved by people who I wanted to love me. I have been homeless and hungry.
Yet here I am. Alive and well. I have a mind worthy of greatness and I have a mother who continues to break herself to lift me up.  I appreciate and I love.

The secret was not just a self help book to me. To me , it was more of something I needed. I needed someone to tell me that my hope is not a lost cause. That it actually means something when you’re fighting for something. It reminded me that doubt is a weed that you plant within yourself and the only way you can stop it from ruining your garden is by removing it completely.  I know life is hard. I am the poster child for Murphy’s law.
I’ve had skin diseases, I’ve been made fun of, I’ve been decieved and ignored and yet here I am.

I am going to…
No I am making a change in my life. Depression has taken me too far down. All the crying and the anxiety attacks that no one ever notices is no longer going to bother me. It will no longer get in the way of what’s ahead of me

I am not asking for a straight path but the right one.
The universe… Or God… Whatever you prefer to call the higher power, it lives within u. Not above u.
The power is in your mind. My mind.
So its time to lift the shovel, fellow pessimists, because doubt has got to go.


As it were.

Everyone should have their own guilty pleasures. Some like the fact that wine makes their problems disappear. Others like pills (no judgment, I like pills too). Some people listen to really corny music and love (Taylor Swift, anyone?) and others, well, they eat. I guess I am a bit different.

I wouldn’t go ahead and say that I am unique in having a different pleasure. A lot of people do, but maybe they are not as confident to say it. I know a few people, my brother included, who tends to draw ad redraw the world map without noticing. He doodles Geography! And that is an example of how the simple pleasures we enjoy either go unnoticed or we blatantly ignore that we do them. Why is that though? Are you ashamed of the word “weird”?  I don’t think we ought to be ashamed of the things that make us happy. For example, my guilty pleasure:

I took a drive out to Oudtshoorn, Western Cape, the other way during the festive holidays. I went along with my boyfriend and his family and we took a 5 hour road trip. 5 hours….

Anyway, despite the different stops we took, my favorite was when we popped into Knysna. I don’t know if any of you know this but its called the Garden Route. And well so. Most of the town is covered in trees whether it be planted or natural. Large rows of trees tower over the roads of Knysna making the hues stand out better than any camera quality you could imagine. The colors of the green trees contrasted the tar roads and the dark brown trunks. But the sky…the sky lit it all up.

Halfway through back to Oudtshoorn, I noticed I had been smiling the whole time. My neck was sore from staring out of the window the whole time and I had been thinking deeply. I think about everything when I see something that beautiful. I am a born and Bred City girl but that doesn’t mean I haven’t ever seen great forests and fields. But nothing like Knysna.

The fact that I am hypnotized by God’s own sculptures. I could stare at a tree for hours and wonder how this living breathing beauty can outlive even the greatest of humans. I wonder how it would look in the next 100 years and if it will still be the Garden Route.

I wonder how we, as humans, can allow our ignorance and our narcissism to overlook the superpower that is human nature.

If only I were put in a different time. If only I were alive to see nature of what it was before us. Freestanding. Powerful, I bet.

That is my guilty pleasure.





So I’m writing this book…


I would like to write a book that lots and lots of people want to read. I would also like to write a book that I want to write. 

Doing both of those things at the same time might be a challenge. 

I’m up for it, though.

Here’s a bit of what’s cooking, if you care to read it. (This is not the beginning, or the end. It would be maybe the middle of the beginning.) I would welcome any feedback.

WordPress doesn’t want you to find the page breaks at the bottom, but they are there.  




He was seated on a stool, sharpening a sword. He turned his head, cocked an eyebrow.


He sighed, hung his head. He inhaled deeply, leaned the sword against the wall, exhaled. He rose from his stool to stand at attention. Lethargic attention. A disengaged civilian, not interested in standing to…

View original post 4,038 more words

Stuck in the middle

I have a kept a grudge on this subject for a long time. Being a colored girl in South Africa is not always easy….
We’re in the middle, us colored people, and we have these funny stereotypes stuck onto us at all times.
I’m okay with being the funny stereotype, but its the unfair privilege everyone else gets that upsets me

See, since I was finishing up high school, I was set on studying further. there was no other option for me, I was a student. A constant learner. I needed to feed my mind and to me the only way to get out of this life was to surpass everyone else mentally. And hopefully financially.
I worked hard, for two years, I stayed broke. Living off of my poor mother who had to take out loan after loan to pay for my first year. We lost our house and we were renting out this tiny one. Everything was okay for a year….

But then it all went down. When I applied to study for my third year, I was told I owe money for my second year so I couldn’t register till I paid 25000….ALL THIS IN JANUARY! 
I applied for loans, and I got no answer. Not even a decline. They told me that my mother doesn’t qualify,and then they “lost” my application.
I tried NSFAS and they wanted a divorce decree from my parents who barely even speak. That was a bit much for me

I tried the banks, but seeing as I couldn’t get my marks I couldn’t apply for a student loan from the bank (standard bank generally asks for a copy of your marks. And you only get your marks once you pay for your studies)

I don’t understand. I didnt.
I thought that it would have been easy, you know, for some one who wants to study to be able to. But I am not well off, credit is not in my parents favor and why am I suffering if they made a few mistakes in their life. My credit record is rising, yes but not nearly enough for what I need. I’m only 21 and I’m disadvantaged more than the previously oppressed race is at this moment. I get that they suffered… But they aren’t the only ones.

Its not even about race anymore. Its about passion. Its about consistency . its about hard work

I feel like if you are determined to finish, why should you not be able to get financial assistance. Why is it so hard to even go back to finish your studies?
As the self proclaimed middle child of the races in south Africa, coloreds are usually overlooked until we act up.
I’m just lost and confused as to what they are actually asking of me. Protesting is a waste of time. Saving up takes to long. What we generally need is to have a secure set of financial security institutions that will help students who cannot depend on their parents salaries.
For students like me, who would like nothing else but to go back to class and learn new things
Which is actually all I want. 


I have some issues with organized religion.
“Some issues” might not be the right phrasing either.
I have always had a problem with being forced to wake up early on the only day I get to sleep in, dress prissy and go to church with my mother. She was going through a phase and thought that maybe joining a church was the answer. Unlike her new frame of mind, her children were not as reluctant.
We fought constantly with me not wanting to go. I didn’t like the fact that I didn’t want to but had to pretend that I am like everyone else in that church.
I can sing along. But why?
I can throw money into the concession bin. But why?
I can greet and praise God loud enough for everyone to hear me. To cheer me on. But it won’t be for the right reasons.

No. I don’t believe in organized religion and it took me quite a while to admit that to myself. But after being abused by my boyfriend (which is another story all on its own)… And then being forced to go to church with him because his father would kick him out otherwise, that kind of pushed the truth out of me.

This life, its not for me. I believe in God but I don’t need to get confirmed.
I can thank him for what he has given him, but I dont have to give my money to the church.
I can be a good person by giving to others and doing things that they genuinely need to do for them, but I don’t need to shout his name in order for everyone to know I am a good person.

I would like the facade to fall and maybe someday it will. A higher power seems real but I honestly think the bible was just a good book taken way too far.

Culture shock

There is a short piece of the novel I am writing.
Okay, that’s a lie. I am not writing it. I was, once, but I gave up half way through. I’m more of a spontaneous writer which means if I am not feeling it, nothing happens.

Despite that, I get some good piece out of every half story I write.

We sat together in silence. I went through scenarios of how I could get out of spending time with her. She was my brother’s girlfriend. Why would I need to bond?
She switched the channel to some reality show. Her face lit up as woman paraded themselves with their husband’s money and dressed half naked in fashion shoots that they called ‘art’.
“Why do you watch these things?” I snorted while taking a handful of chips. “They give women a bad name. All they do is exploit themselves.”
She didn’t even flinch. It couldn’t be the first time someone has told her that. I had a strong opinion on the way women presented themselves. And Like attracts like.
We continued watching the show but I quickly moved my interest onto her. She smirked whenever someone said something about money and power on the show. It was quite interesting to watch.
“Money isn’t everything.” I blurt out without thinking. My face immediately embarrassed at telling her that. My brother had already warned me about what I shouldn’t speak about.

She turned herself towards me and her golden complexion had dried out. She looked annoyed more than tired. “Money is everything ….when you have none.”

And she turned back towards the show.

Head out of the books

Once I start thinking about the person I am now in comparison to who I used to be, I figure there might not be a big change.

I do still immerse myself into my own world and read all day. I do still get social anxiety when in a new environment. I do still want life to stand still instead of move forward.

That is how I was and still am.
I trap myself in a bubble that doesn’t involve other people.. I don’t really want people around as much because I feel as though they do not understand. I get really emotional and some people get annoyed by that. I want people on my side at all times. I suppose this could be considered a princess complex.

However, I have  grown a lot in a short period of time. Just last year , I was studying and reading and considering my life to be a dead end and the only way out is to get my degree. I had no experience with work and my boyfriend was my savior more times than I’d like to admit.
Yet being forced out of that life has made me conscious of reality and life outside of what I had known. I had to go on a job search and especially being as persistent as I am, I got one quite quickly. It was a part time position but it was something. I would say that life outside of my education was all I thought it would be. I got fat. I made debt. I partied a lot. I literally feel as though I have wasted a year of my life.

But have I really? I have experience now. I have a sense of what money actually means and how quick it can be gone. I have tastes another choice.

I have grown.
And honestly, I would never have done this if I had not been forced to pull my head out of the books.

Second hand

I have been feeling extremely tenacious lately. Thought about small businesses and making ends meet by creating an online business worthy for those who, just like me, cannot make due with minimum wage.
I’m no bourgeois bitch. But I suppose being young has left me for the taste for the extravagant and for the new.
I would never ever buy second hand clothing because I feel they have some years on them and they don’t exactly belong to me, but I do believe that either selling your clothes you don’t wear or giving them to charity if they have a few years on them is a great idea!
So I googled “cash for clothes” for three days straight. I came up with nothing

I went onto Facebook and going two groups called “Second Hand” where people could post pictures of their items and if anyone was interested, they would be able to create a meet and have their items sold.
Except, I didn’t get any offers….
So what I have been thinking about is starting an online store where you could actually get Cash For Clothes.
It would be for less than you bought it, obviously and I would need some assistance in managing the clothing. I would donate many to charity. Have them handed out to those who actually do need them.


The only dilemma I do have about this sort of idea is that I don’t have money to pay for anyone else’s used goods. Which is quite the predicament.
What I am getting at, people, is that as a twenty one year old girl who always reads about how becoming an entrepreneur is in demand in this generation, I realized that there will always be setbacks.

There are always obstacles.

Young people should be able to start their own clothing lines. Their own garages to fix cars. Their own dog walking companies without the worry of not having the money to sustain their daily lives.
Its a big thing to think about and I think companies should start investing in some of these ideas. After all, that’s how they started out, isn’t it?

But what do I know?
I’m just twenty one year with a dream.

Table mountain’s birthday


Table mountain’s birthday special was beautiful. Despite the wind, the mist and the clouds covering the view of the city, this was possibly one of the best days of my life. I love the city vibe, don’t get me wrong. But once you see something as profound and as spectacular as this, you can’t exactly go back.