Lessons from the Lift Club ... (part one...in progress)

an attempt at memoir/nostalgic indulgence. crit most definitely welcome.

--------

We were second-hand lions; Hash, Batman and me.That's what Batman would say, after a long day capped with a handrolled cigarette - cherry tobacco swaddled in a liqourice flavoured Rizzla.
We'd lean against the car, watch the sun slip into Florida lake, spin semantics and swop objectives. Hash would tell how he ran up the stairs at Wartenweiler to give a note to the Library Girl, the one who glided. Batman would laugh then, and I'd think what i'd always think whenever he smiled - gosh he really does look alot like Robert Downey Jr.

We'd ask Hash, "So when's the wedding?", because we knew she was The One, like all the others. He'd shrug and squint into the promise of twilight, lost to himself, while Batman and I counted the number of times Hash had handed out his heart at lunchtime.

The war stories we'd tell; threads of loves and losses, each of us carrying enough to tip us over the standard luggage allowance.

And what was I, the third to this pair of odds? Sans car, sans license, the only route to my post-grad validation via these veterans of the Campus Lift Club.

Wearing their fathers' vintage shirts, way before Hawaiian hibiscus print came back and left in a hurry, they'd sit sometimes on the concrete outside the cafe in Newclare, promising to quit smoking after buying loose Stuyvies and buddy Cokes. I'd nod in earnest interest, trying to learn how to speak Cars. Batman and Hash would laud the merits of angel-eye headlights and colour-coded side mirrors, while I carefully weighed up what this meant in the greater scheme of things.

Such was Lift Club.

G'town!!!

Next week, this time, the Munshi's and I will be soaking up kultcha and art-cred in the quaintly cobbled streets of ye olde Grahamstown (shh... Mish, yah, so they're not really cobbled, don't kill the moment with detail).

Four fab festival days filled with all things arty-fartified and thespian.

I've upgraded from the dinky moto v300 to a bulky-but-beautiful-in-my-eyes sony-ericsson w550i, so do expect maximum mo-blogging at saaleha.textamerica.com

One Fine Friday ... a rah rah rant rant

I downloaded an article entitled "How to stop Procrastinating". Haven't gotten around to reading it yet.

Deadlines loom with malevolent menace (oooh, alliteration). If anyone whispers 'wordcount' to me, i'm going to bash them on the head with the external dvd-writer and make them drink yesterday's rancid coffee.

Wish I had a vice to seek solace in. Thinking about going to the smoking-room to stand around and breathe in the 4pm cloud.

Or i'll inject some mochaccino intravenously instead.

Happy Weekending.

23 going on 2 and three-quarters.

Happy Birthday to me.

Negotiating a learning curve... (part one)

Lesson One: Don't slam on the brakes.

And don't ask the Almighty for clarity, when you'd rather be steeped in blissful ignorance.

I'm just five days away from 23, apparently this will firmly entrench me into the "Responsible Adult" category. As for the responsible bit, apparently this is defined by some as the number of 'non-frivolous' payments that debit your account after payday. Though one additional payment will be a welcome one ... Chevrolet Forever :)

The past weekend was perhaps the most treacherous of learning curves I've had to negotiate (hence, blog post title). It's a tough lesson to learn when the you're the subject. One who was Significant, suddenly not so much so, and I admit, I'm left reeling.
The conflict; a violence on my thought processes. And then, the clichéd bargaining with Allah, asking Him for a signpost to sanity. And when it presented itself, the wish that I'd never asked for directions, that I was better off cruising.

But now, I've quit being the stubborn Muslimah. There is a sweet, airy freedom in submission. I'll walk the path, alone if that is my fate, but walk the path I shall.

she walks alone.

a moment in arbness... (1)

Who do atheists thank for Fridays?

43 things

After visiting 43things.com, Significant emailed me his list of 43.
Herewith my own:

1. climb Kilamanjaro
2. bungee jump off Bloukrans bridge
3. learn to swim
4. study arabic
5. get a bicycle – and learn to ride it like a pro
6. learn sign language
7. buy a guitar and take lessons
8. travel through north Africa and the middle east
9. roadtrip South Africa
10. write for national geographic
11. do my masters in creative writing
12. get my PHD in something
13. write, seriously, get a couple of books out there
14. marry my soulmate
15. get rid of all my clutter
16. develop my relationship with my Creator
17. read more
18. get a car – any car
19. stay committed to working out
20. watch Live live in concert
21. ditto with Carlos Santana
22. skydive
23. do more volunteer and relief work
24. do something worthwhile within journalism
25. become a writer of influence and reputation
26. backpack South America
27. just travel
28. take up cooking as a hobby
29. develop my sense of focus
30. strive everyday to serve others and myself, and in doing so, serve the Almighty
31. watch all those movies on my to-watch list
32. upgrade my computer
33. be a good mother, someday.
34. dye my hair something drastic, just for one day
35. maintain my friendships
36. perform Hajj
37. watch a sunrise in every country
38. learn one of the local vernaculars (and train my tongue to click like a natural).
39. go for laser eyesight correction surgery
40. stop using profanity
41. take an advanced design and layout course
42. play squash more regularly
43. and bring about world peace

It would be interesting to see how many checks are scratched next to the items when I revisit this list after a decade.

There's only now...

... do it right.

(Faithless)



More to follow when I'm done playing at being a bourgeousie-prole.