Day 128-130: The Makings of an AMERICAN-African...

Anyone on this site
Lately we have had a few enlightening surprises as far as our internship lectures are concerned.
Just last Thursday, we were joined by a learned individual from Poland who spoke like a Frenchman and his name was France... mm.. perhaps he is a secret agent.. those James Bond types...I enjoy meeting new people especially those from other parts of the world. I find that it brings the other side of the world to life. And goodness knows that besides living by the beach and becoming a rock star DJ/Writer, I wanna see the world...So bad... real bad Michael Jackson!
But I digress...

SA music is not defined by drums or whatever. SA music does not have to be deep intense, sad and introspective in order to be that. We can also snap our fingers and do the step... we can do it all by ourselves... lol

During this session, something quite profound occurred to me. Whether I think (South Africa's equivalent of Dem Franchize Boyz)Jozi or any other Akon wannabe is making authentic (South) African music is irrelevant. What rings true is that Jozi is an SA clique and therefore whatever music that they make lies beneath the SA music banner, regardless of my distaste for their obvious steez-bitin'.


We also had a focus group session with soem students from Columbia College. Plenty came into focus during the chill session with the Columbia College students. Five words. The blind leading the blind. My lack of self-identity and self-love stems from being an emotionally scarred African. The irony being that the very African-Americans that I wanna be like are anything but self-assured and self-aware as I make them out to be. So maybe the lesson is that I should look for me within me, not externally.

I've always thought that the same thought process exists with regards to the concept of The One. He or she lies within. And He or She is the Script-Writer. Coz everything comes back to Him.

But the question is... WHO AM I? WHO ARE WE?
We are often told to look to our past to figure who you be but really I refuse to define myself as the product of exploitation, abuse and apartheid. The black sheep of the family that nobody wanted.

So we gots to flip it right...
and embrace the positive side of the above. Yes, that crappy stuff happened but that can't be the only story I tell (Learnt that from this week's Grey's). That can't be the crux.
I am the strength and faith and resolve that managed to overcome the hardships of hectic oppression.
I am the epitome of all that overcomes and all that rises above.
I just need to connect with that wisdom, dig into it and soar!

Yho I should be a poet...

That's enough for today kids...
Tune in next time for another exciting episode of KP Angelou...
I leave you with a few words from one of the greatest lyricists alive/to ever live...

Rosa Parks sat so Martin Luther could walk
Martin Luther walked so Barack Obama could run
Barack Obama ran so all the children could fly
So I'ma spread my wings
YOU CAN MEET ME IN THE SKY!
-Jay-Z

*how apt is this considering that we are smack in the middle of YOUTH MONTH! Quite befitting.

**Sorry I went on forever again. I can't even touch on my show which happened today. I'll start a new blog entry for that. I'll keep it short...promise.. well, I'll try. No harm done I suppose. I guess I was just really moved which is always something to write home about... and boy did I...

Day 108-111: Shut Up, Just Shut Up Shut Up...

Back in high school, I dated some triflin' niggas. Popular but hella dodge tertiary guys who would cheat on me. And my fellow female pupils would be more than happy to let me in on my boyfriends' indiscretions. Coz that's how real it would get in high school. Women-on-women violence. But they would be the first to hook up with him straight afterwards despite his shady track-record. Or worse still, these girls would knowingly hook up with dude even though they knew he was unavailable...

I wish I could take the moral high ground in comparison to my boyfriends. But nah... I was only slightly better because I kept my indiscretions a secret. I never got bust. So not only did their cheating give me a legit reason to get out of a disastrous pseudo-relationship that was only wasting my (air-)time, but it also made me look like the poor victim. Aargh shame for me. In my mind, it didn't really matter what the situation really was... as long as dude felt bad and I came out smelling like roses. There really was no reason for me to tell dude that while he was messing around, so was I... It's fine. Let him think he's a piece of shit cheat. No skin off my nose coz he been a piece of shit. I won't lie, I would get upset. Mostly out of embarrassment and humiliation. Egocentric B.S that would not let me help him downplay his guilt... In fact, let's not tarnish my good image... I figured it's always better to appear to be the victim instead of the wrong-doer. Nobody likes the wrong-doer... Plus, I couldn't begin to have dude look at me the same way that I looked at him... Yeah... Like a piece of shit cheat! Lol!

All these experiences taught me one thing. Don't ever be naive enough to think that whatever you're doing on the down-low is not being done by your significant other. That's how karma works ... So it's a big deal for me to be involved and not cheat. A sorta growth and maturity of sorts. But with so many opportunities to do so, I'm sure that Shorty is facing extensive temptation of his own on the daily... Now we don't all go through the same rite of passage, so goodness knows if he been resisting.

Hence my sheer reluctance to trust a nigga. Even the one I'm seeing. Especially when he keeps fueling my paranoia... On Friday, he ignored my calls and texts. The following morning, he tried to feed me some cock-n-bull story about his phone dying. Like honestly. I was not having it. I hate being lied to but what I hate more is an apology that is accompanied by a lie. Yho! That grates my tits. What's also bad is how I've told him before if something is going on- tell me. Don't make me wait like a crazy person. Or worse- don't fuck up and think you can fix it in the morning!?

So you think I'm gullible and stoopid?! Fine. Then leave me alone in my gullibility n stoopidity coz I really ain't gotta deal with this shit.

I wonder will Shorty n I ever go a mere seven days without fighting? It's becoming such a drag. I hate repeating myself to a grown man as though I'm involved in dog-training. Oh hell no! I really dunno what can fix this but my head ain't over there right now. I gots a show in the early hours of Monday morning. Another reason why I'm so annoyed. This nigga is fucking with my focus... I should just knock him out like Charles Hamilton. His inconsideration shows jus how self-involved he is. Like dude... The world does not revolve around you! And maybe that's been my fault... You write a coupla posts about dude, he begins to feel and act as though he rules your world. F-off!

Well, I'm obviously peeved. But like I been saying, anger ain't a real emotion. I'm hella disappointed and disheartened. And I hate to say it, especially after the other day... A part of me has to laugh at that though... How fuckin unoriginal... A nigga trippin afterwards... Well that's what you get huh... Oh well... Dirt off my shoulder!

As much as I mean that... I realise that this is merely the price of caring for somebody. You become vulnerable to being hurt. Like I just heard on Grey's... Making friends makes for another loss along the way...

On to something a lil more constructive... I'm beginning to feel those nerves again, even though my show is like twelve hours away. I so need to bring it this time... Here's to some good post-show news!

Day 51: Somethin' New...

Rosa Parks sat so that Martin Luther could walk/ Martin Luther walked so that Barack Obama could run/ Barack Obama ran so that all the children could fly/ So I'ma spread my wings/ You can meet me in the sky...

The bad news: These very lyrics nearly cost me my phone at about 10 AM today. There I was, minding my own business, tryna update my fb status but it kept bouncing back coz the words were more than 160 characters. Hella frustrating. So I had to resort to the single most annoying thing on fb... Using SMS language... But because I was so moved by the words, I didn't mind butchering them for hip hop's sake!

Lil did I know, that beyond my mini-skirt, my furious typing had attracted the attention of opportunist criminals... I couldn't have noticed them though coz I also had Jay-Z blaring in my ears... Honestly, I ignored that lil voice that warned me that I had just entered Sin City (they aren't loitering... They are dealers and working women...) so I may wanna put my valuables away... But nooooooo....!

So Mr Man aka The Hustler walks up to me and puts his arm around me. I jump and turn my head up, expecting to see a familiar face but instead I was met with a scowling face, an extended hand and a bearly audible 'Tlisa' (Sotho for- 'Gimme that')! How about no?! By the time he had demanded my phone, I had already begun reacting (screaming) to his foreign grimy arm being around my neck. By the time I realised that he was audaciously tryna jack me by asking me for MY phone as though it was HIS phone (on some Derren Brown tip), I was way too annoyed with fb's damn restrictions and now a stranger's sticky slime on my back! Oh hell no! So I walked off and so did he, empty-handed, defeated, probably wishing that I hadn't been listening to music at the moment he struck.

It wasn't until I was a few feet away from the scene that I realised what had nearly occured. Then I was freaked. Couldn't believe I still had my phone. I mean he could've just grabbed it and ran but he was probably just dying to touch me. Lol! Goodness!

Oh yeah... I should've maced his ass. Which reminds me of what a friend once said about my Mace can. When I need it most, I won't even think about it. Besides, it would've taken forever to dig into my mother of a bag to find it.

If my phone had been taken, I wouldn't be alive to write this coz my moms would've blazed my ass! She's constantly on my case about how much time I spend mucking about on my phone especially in public, shopping malls, the street. She's often prophesised that someone is bound to snatch my phone!

Ever since my first phone in Grade Nine, I haven't been able to keep a phone. They always get jacked (even the brick classic Nokia 5110 which was merely substituting for another phone which had been stolen recently), mostly because of my lack of alertness. As much as my mom would revel in being right, she'd be more pissed at my inability to do better when I know better.

Bottom line, I got away with nearly screwing up my day-off. Didn't head to work because of this Taxi Drama. Instead I tackled all the things that I haven't been able to do because of my schedule. Got my hair did. I figure if this hairstyle doesn't get me a kiss... Then nothing will. My chauvanistic hairdresser said I should let him know how things progress coz he willing to help me out for a R50 fee! How about no!? Paid the the doctor a visit- the good news... I'm officially out the sling. Shorty tried to suprise me again today. Wasn't there to enjoy it. Sucky! Maybe tomorrow!? Let's see him try resist this... Two arms, hot hair, cute ass, stellar personality... Lol... Goodness... This is beyond sad!