How I got here

Before the car ride, law was my only option. I was certain about it. On that particular day, my dad asked me if I had ever considered journalism. He had spent 18 years of his life working at the SABC, so all I thought was; of course he would want me to end up there too, but he didn’t push me. Instead, his question made me do some research on the profession, and this research opened my eyes to what role the journalism profession actually played in my life. I soon realised that Journalism actually gave me life. Journalistic work is what allows me to do what I enjoy and to experience a different form of learning which I enjoyed much more than sitting in a classroom of 16 students, same people, same drama, same chit chat. I fell in love with law first, and ever since then my love for it has never changed, but that doesn’t mean I can’t love another. Of course my grandmother has not always been certain about law because she feels that it is a dishonest profession. However, I know the kind of lawyer that I want to be.

Yes I want to make money, I mean we all need to make a living don’t we?
I feel I have a social responsibility towards the people of my country, we all have a responsibility towards one another, and it’s how we co-exist isn’t it? Journalism added passion to this notion of co-existence, the kind of passion gathered from watching a documentary such as “Cry Freedom” and “For Neda”; and no I’m not dwelling on the past. My dad being a man of the struggle thought he should open my eyes to what life was like in his day and what the struggle really meant; so yes he had me watch a documentary, or two; okay maybe a few. On can’t watch a documentary such as “For Neda”, or one about girls as young as 12 being illegally married off to older men in Indian villages and not be moved, and not be motivated to make a difference in the world. Things like this made me realise that although the world wars are over, there is a different was that we’re fighting now and it’s a war for humanity.
I am very aware that I alone cannot change the world, but instead of turning a blind eye like many of us tend to do; I can do something for a change. I don’t just want to be somebody, I want to help somebody too; and I want to be one of those who fight for change in a damaged world. The biggest change that I would like to see is justice and the restoration of humanity; and in this war for justice and humanity; journalism and law are my driving force because I’m not fighting with weapons but rather fighting with knowledge. And no, my dad did not force me into journalism; he introduced me to a strategy which would help me in my quest; so I guess daddy knows best; well at least I know mine does.

What it means to turn 21

So I’m 21 today, happy birthday me…

They say turning 21 is a true indication of one’s transition to man or womanhood. One is well out of their teens and now in their 20’s. What I’m wondering is whether I should be able to feel more mature and grown up.

I woke up this morning to lovely birthday wishes and gifts (I made it clear that I don’t want or need a party, I honestly don’t see the point); when my mum asked me how it feels to be 21 I couldn’t come up with a profound response because I feel the exact same way as I did last night- except without everyone fussing over me as much. To be honest, I was more eager about my 18th birthday; when I turned 18 I was sure I could feel the difference, the excitement was far greater then. To my surprise, nothing much changed, except my age of course; life just went on.

Maybe this time around I know better than to overreact about a simple change in age; I think my advancement in age will probably only hit me when I turn 25 because right now, I can’t feel, see or hear the maturity. Okay I lied, my parents keep emphasizing that I’m all grown up and how it scares them and they don’t want to let go, I just wish I could at least feel like I’m older. Perhaps there will be a difference around 8 PM tonight, maybe the reason I don’t feel anything is because my time of birth is still hours away.

So I’ll wait a few hours and tell you how grown I feel then, perhaps something will feel different… or not.

“Make it to me”

“…My mind runs away to you with a thought ill hope you’ll see, can’t see where it’s wandered to but I know where it wants to be. I’m waiting patiently though time is moving slow, I have one vacancy and I wanted you to know that you’re the one designed for me, a distant stranger that I will complete. I know you’re out there, we’re meant to be, so keep your head down and make it to me.

So sick of this lonely air it seems such a waste of breath; so much that I need to share, so much to get off my chest. I’m waiting patiently, though time is moving slow, I have one vacancy and I wanted you to know that you’re the one designed for me, a distant stranger that I will complete. I know you’re out there, we’re meant to be, so keep your head down and make it to me…”

“Hello there…” said my Serbian prince, taking me by surprise but having my full attention. Although living thousands of kilometers away, he finally made it to me. After each having been on this earth for two decades, our paths finally crossed. Though a big lover, I’ve never been much of a dater, so much so that a lot of people in my life questioned my sexual orientation, but try as they may they could never get me to go out with anyone they introduced me to. When asked why I don’t date, I had no honest answer.

Although I wasn’t so receptive to the idea of dating, I did have a longing to find someone special who understood me and cared for me; but it’s important that he cares about me more than I care about him because when I care I tend to care too much. A simple rule that I always have in mind is to never love a man more than he loves you, I just don’t imagine that ending well. Even though I was very selective with me heart, I still wanted to have someone’s heart. Still, my longing for affection was never enough to inspire me to date more, basically, like many other ladies I’m sure, I expected the right kind of man to just appear out of nowhere- I knew there ought to be one out there somewhere.

After a long wait, … practically appeared out of nowhere. Although a frequent traveller, I would say the chance of him crossing my path was unlikely; but somehow he made it to me. As someone who gets turned off very easily, I surprisingly found it easy to overlook any faults in him- I couldn’t even manage to compile a list of faults to begin with. We’ve had some blissful moments together (mostly over Skype) but the boredom is slowly creeping in. However, unlike in previous instances, I have the motivation to overlook the boredom because for once I have found a guy who does not turn me off every 10 minutes; even though he is not the most interesting person alive and even though he does not have the looks of a Greek god I’m glad he kept his head down long enough to make it to me. Now that I’ve caught the most common STD described as “feelings” I can’t help but wonder whether this is his pit stop or whether he has actually reached his destination.

I have trust issues and I over think things, something which he has picked up; so now that he knows I’m on to him will he give up the act or am I the one who needs to take the director’s hat off and just go with the flow this time?

18 Struggles Of Having An Outgoing Personality But Actually Being Shy And Introverted

When the time comes…

As students we go through a number of periods of homesickness to the extent where everything about being at school is such a hassle, from the res food, social life, to the small town and the bad customer service that comes with it and not to mention being so far away from friends and family back home. Finally being home brings the greatest joys as more good memories are made; but not for Joanne.

She has always considered herself a social person which is why her need to be alone most days came as a surprise even to her. The only hassle about being at school for Joanne is the food and the struggles of her student budget; if it weren’t for those then home would be but a distant memory. After having been away from home for so long, Joanne came to the realisation that being home had it’s own set of problems which were worse than yelling at a teller with a bad attitude. One can’t really yell at their parent in the same manner no matter how unreasonable parents may be; and the more time she spent at home the more she came to realise how often her parents behaved unreasonably leaving her to wonder who the child really was in the household.

Joanne came to the conclusion that the clashes between her and her parents- with her mum in particular- had a lot to do with their frequent interactions. This caused her to become a mental drifter, removing all thoughts and feelings over challenging moments or situations allowed Joanne to care less and of course hurt less. Although she feels better than ever, she worries that her state of mind which is miles away from her family has caused her to become too comfortable in her state of withdrawal from those who she should be closest to.

This however does not worry her to the extent of seeking change, being more withdrawn has proven to be a safe defence mechanism which has spared her feelings on many occasions. Who knew caring less would hurt less.

Selfish Desires

They get so close, they violate my space and they don’t seem to even care how uncomfortable it makes me.

Every night I go to sleep I have a moment of appreciation for the fact that I am going to bed in a bed that is mine and mine alone. When I wake up I appreciate the fact that I am waking up to a room which belongs to me and is arranged according to my personal needs. My room and my bed are my serenity. No matter their size and no matter their level of comfort, I do not like to share.

If you ever think of asking me to share my bed, you should know that the answer will be a straight- up and solid “NO”, the same applies for my room. I do not like to share my private space, you can imagine how my blood boils when my space is violated on a regular basis by your never ending visits. People who live in my home are: my mother, my father and me; I have my room and they have theirs, if you do not live in our home then your room is the guest room, on a temporary basis- because you are of course a guest in this house.

I have no problem with you coming around, only as long as you exist far away from my personal space for the duration of your stay. You have no right to be in my room, you have no right to be in my bed- you have absolutely no right to be in my space. My space is personal to me, it is mine and I do not like to share it. Do not be surprised when you do not get a warm reception when in my room, it is after all on meant for guests. It is common knowledge that guests belong in the guest room, this is a fact that I should not have to repeat every time you come here. Do not take advantage of the fact that we are relatives, we may be relatives but for goodness sake even twins probably get to have and enjoy their own personal space. So stop taking over mine, we are not that close- this applies to all of you, GUESTS.

Yours in Anger
Zinhle Hlatshwayo

Kido-phobia