Game of Thrones
With life gradually accelerating to super-sonic speeds I cannot correlate to existence, I stray in though and wonder, is Sonic the Hedgehog a metaphor for the developments in computing? A symbol for the systematic jabs the information age throws to our otherwise could-be-peaceful lives? Long employment hours with lots of work, information overload, and just being constantly busy; developments of this nature cannot be healthy!
When par is defined as more and what is sufficient as mediocrity, burnout of the individual is the only plausible outcome. Recalibrating myself from my vortex of thoughts, I desire to use this opportunity as a moment to get to know you, my reader. To ask for your permission to interact with me in my orgy of fears and bring us to a place of euphoric release.
I want us to reflect on the most important moments in our lives, to look into ourselves and question what counts and is worth fighting for. I present before us a double-edge sword; to say, maybe money isn’t the apex of our existence and, we might be living some of the most pivotal milestones in life; we’re just ignoring the beauty of it. I dare say, through the dross and the drab you may just be a Super mum, an amazing dad, the awesome sibling those who look up to you want you to be – and with that, maybe that is all we need to be.
It is not every day that I go onto the internet and read another person’s blog, short of it being a meme website, but something shook me around the end of the month of January. It tied in with what I had previously been casually reading into: life’s most meaningful events. While browsing a few forums where people were commenting about what, to them, were their most important life moments and expectations, I recall a comment on one of the many forums saying something to the effect of, “oh my god, I’ve spend so much time investing my life towards money, I’ve just realised I don’t have any other life goals other than to make money!” Binding this to a series of books I had been indulging in, I was able to come to the conclusion that we so easily undermine ourselves and the meaning of life.
Alan Watts, a philosopher whose works I became familiar to me due to the Zeitgeist documentaries, provided a complex interpretation of life, definitely more technical than any eight-to-five or orthodox religion was willing to provide; his works led to me invest in authors who were against the tide. I read Julian Baggini’s comic The Ego Trick, Carl Jung’s poetic The Archetypes and The Collective Unconscious, and a book I recommend dearly, Albert Einstein’s The World As I See It, an autobiography by Einstein which gives him a philanthropic face. An early understanding I gained of the listed authors is that philosophy is a very complex field, it’s take on life is enough to drive a man insane; a privilege we may be denying ourselves a right to. It is known that Friedrich Nietzsche, a revered philosopher, went mad, so why not us!
By no means am I going to forgive the ignorantly blissful; individuals who say they are happy and love life but don’t seek to be anything or understand anything. There is a bad habit I have observed, mostly around Basotho, to say they are happy, using this as an excuse to ignore reality. I want to believe we all have that one person we know who blames headaches on one of the following:
- thinking too much
- studying too hard
Now, because of the silly reasons listed above, such individuals would rather drink till the bar closes, watch non-informative TV programs, and deeply day-dream about being rich – these are the same individuals who preach ho tla loka. My reply, ho tla loka hobaneng! So, indeed, I am not advocating for this self-pitying reclusive behaviour. I am advocating towards a paradigm where we stop undermining ourselves, where we look deep into ourselves and see ourselves for the beauties we truly are.
As a people we are generally sick, our lack of awareness of this sicknesses further justifies that we are sick. There is no shame in being aware we are plagued by materialism, which can contribute to our feelings of lack in life. Toxic thoughts like, I don’t have an iPhone so I’m poor. I don’t wear label clothing so I’m further poor, and possibly, why isn’t anybody commenting on my Facebook wall, poor me. These are some of our illnesses I want us to dismiss. I do not see them as a problem in themselves, they are a sign that we are ill-equipped to defend our identities from corporate PR vomit. I, by no means, am not saying the iPhone, designer labels or Facebook are bad, just that we need to be able to condition ourselves to be able to handle corporate spew.
So, what about me, what do I mark as a milestone in my life in theme with what has been said? I can mark two: my best friend who I grew up with and a few cool white people I had the opportunity to get to know. Of course they are not the only life changers, but the interaction brought about by their involvement in my life helped bring a chapter to completion.
Growing up I was never really one who cared about my skin colour, my best friend was white, I was black; I believed it was more rational to define me as brown, charcoal is black, I’m not. He bore with his unique cultural traits, I grew up not being able to speak my home language. Now, the cornerstone was this: neither of us were racist, sexist, or neo-Nazis; we were best friends being what best friends should be: best friends. I still to this day cherish the memory of growing up with someone like him.
A turn of events sparked when I first watched Sarafina. I recall going to my mum and asking, why are there was fighting? She told me it was because of the colour of their skin. I thought, what?! She somewhat sighed at my naïve interpretation of life. That ghost explained itself as I grew up till I finally had a fuller understanding that people can hate you for insignificant factors like skin colour; something I still think is damn stupid.
Having grown to see that man can be a hateful creature with an aura of wrath, lust and sacrilege, I was relieved to find that the individuals who would relieve me of this blur would be… “Whites”. Whites, Caucasian, I never understood where the latter came from. All I am clear of is, as I was growing up the new catchphrase was “politically correct” and it was politically correct to refer to White people as Caucasians. Please allow me to have a moment to ask, when did people become so sensitive, or see the need for a political umbrella to garden their emotions? I don’t care what you call me: darkie, black, even negro, just context it in a healthy manner. What matters to me is that we carry ourselves with a sense of respect, for ourselves, and our neighbour.
Those who know me on a personal level know I’m a cheeky person and enjoy the company of people who push the envelope. I had two Caucasians refer to me as gay at RAG, but so what! They were friendly, we were drinking and it was all good humour. I hate the world we live in where people are afraid to hurt their neighbours emotions; that needs to change.
So, anyway, I was liberated of the racist complex by Whites. I usually laugh that some of the most racist attacks I received while at varsity were actually from Blacks, so before we cloak whimsy emotions with false love that loves you neighbour on Sunday, let us reflect on similar events. Those events marked my hour of liberation; I interacted with all folk – I REALLY don’t care about your skin colour, and with that Sarafina complex was cured.
All the World’s A Stage
Now, back to you: Super mum, amazing dad, amazing sibling, or just Average Bob or Jane. Maybe, that’s all you need to be, you’ve moved lives. You’ve changed people’s interpretation of events for the better. If I may ask to make a request from you, my reader, it would be: worry less about money, love more. I will finish in saying, you are the protagonist of your life: love.
Cheezburger, Inc. 2013. Awesome Face / Epic Smiley. [O].
Accessed: 26 February 2013