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Gevangenis 2017

Na twaalf jaar staan ek op parool. Vandag trek ek my laaste strepie op die betonmuur. Ek het my straf uitgedien – soms met mismoedigheid dat hierdie dag eindelik sou aanbreek en soms het ek die groter prentjie gesien (miskien kan ek tog iets leer).

Ek moes ‘n brief skryf waarin ek my skuld op die aanklag van (poging tot) moord beken.

~ Volgens die wetlike definisie van moord op die webtuiste legal dictionary, is moord: “the unlawful killing of a human being with malice aforethought. The term malice aforethought did not necessarily mean that the killer planned or premeditated on the killing, or that he or she felt malice toward the victim. Generally, malice aforethought referred to a level of intent or reck-lessness that separated murder from other killings and warranted stiffer punishment.” ~

Ek staan vandag voor jou met die bloed van ‘n kind op my hande. Ek het eens op ‘n tyd gewens ek is groot, sodat ek ook die lewe kon geniet. Maar soos ek ouer word, sien ek al wat kort is my kinderdae, vol lag en speel, sonder bekommernis of verantwoordelikheid. Ek het die kind in my besweer sodat ek vinniger ouer kon word, vinniger verantwoordelik en volwasse kon wees.

Die wêreld is ‘n inkleurboek wat mense met hul persoonlikhede, glimlagte en duistere motiewe moet inkleur. ‘n Wêreld wat in neon gedoop is, blyk swart en wit vir my. Ek sien nie meer die kleurryke nasie van sprokies en -liefde nie. Ek het van die ‘yellow brick road’ wat jou na die kasteel van verbeelding lei, gestuier.

Soms wil mens jou brood aan altwee kante gebotter hê. Aan die een kant, veg mense met hoop wat in hul woed vir die positiewe, die silwer randjie aan die donker wolk wat oor ons koppe hang. Aan die ander kant, is dit wanhoop wat oorweldig word met die bose, misdaad, oorlog, hongersnood, droogte. Ons breek ons helde af en verwoes gedenktekens omdat ons wanhopig is oor die toekoms en vasklou aan die verlede met al sy begonne foute, seer en blaam. Dit is ons noodroep vir krygers soos Albert Luthuli en Nelson Mandela wat die mag van vrede, vryheid en geregtigheid verstaan het, om op te staan en ons te lei, want ons bevind onsself in ‘n finansiële, ekonomiese, politiese, sosiolistiese verknorsing sonder enige rigting of aanwysing hoe om die stryd te beveg.

 R10-noot

©Melissa van Eeden

Groen is jou vel

Wat ‘n storie vertel

Van ‘n lewe gestroop

Skaars genoeg vir ‘n brood

 

Jou hande bedel vir geregtigheid

Vandag is Jy ‘n held wêreldwyd

Tog is Jou glimlag gekreukel en gevou

Na jare se klippe kou en nasiebou

 

Jy is waardevol

Die koeël is in die kol

Onse gebrokeling

Môre ‘n vreemdeling

 

Nes jy is ek kaal gestroop

My identiteit en siel verkoop

Maar ons eer word betoon

Êrens tussen munte en note woon

 

 Ons gesigte op die 10 rand noot

Skaars genoeg vir ‘n brood

Ek het hoop in die mensdom verloor. Ek het einde Mei 2017 ‘n blog post geskryf oor my siening oor vandag se jeug en samelewing. “Our youth and society has become a mankind of glorious disgust and indolence. Our future is in the hands of our youth – that smokes the clouds we see (clouds that don’t bring rain, but pollution), that still depends on Mommy and Daddy rather than accepting responsibility, that is too frightened to speak their minds like Shakespeare or EE Cummings or any other pioneer in the previous centuries.” Lees gerus die hele blog post (https://coffeetalks101.wordpress.com/2017/05/28/did-life-get-easier/) om die waarheid agter die stelling te begryp.

“Ek gaan jou nog vermoor!” Poging tot moord. Ek wou al hoeveel mense vermoor het, maar ek het nie. Dalk maak dit my ‘n beter persoon, ek weet nie. Ek het in drie gevegte gekom. Twee beseer. Maar nog nooit iemand vermoor nie. Die Bybel meen die tong is skerper as die swaard. Soms is woorde genoeg om mens tot moord te dryf.

Ek het ‘n brief geskryf oor jou (jy sal weet wie jy is).

Suicide Note

I have kept too many secrets. I tried to be strong. I fought against it: emotionally, physically, mentally. It was stronger as it finally destroyed me.

I am dead. No, not physically. Well, not yet. I am dead inside. I don’t feel anything except pain and brokenness. At night, I drown in my sorrows. Feeling the tears sliding down my cheeks, makes me feel vulnerable. How could I let you win again?

I am a man. Therefore, I ought to be tough. Nobody can see me cry. I ought to be strong. I must – I… must…

Can’t you see how I look? Can’t you sense my insecurities? No, why would you? I don’t know why you do the things you do. Maybe you were bullied at school, at home, in life or maybe you try to hide your own insecurities. I don’t know, but what I know is that your jokes, your words and actions cut through my skin and now…

Look at me. Do you see it? (See the scars close to my pulse on my left arm.) You did this to me. Every single cut comes from your knife. At first, you used a blunt knife. It was gentle, and soft, and innocent. It wasn’t sufficient. The knife became sharper and sharper. Its touch became less gentle, less soft, less innocent.

I have been noticing that you, too, have lost your innocence in this big, mean world. Don’t feel guilty. It happens to all of us.

I have lost my innocence at the age of fifteen. I know what you may think: he lost his virginity, he drinks too much, he does drugs, he smokes. No, if you thought any of that, you were wrong – and it shows me how much you really know me. I have lost my childhood innocence – thinking that life is simple, rainbow-coloured and nice.

I learned the hard way to fend for myself. After my mother’s death, I couldn’t cope. I dwelled through a senseless life. One afternoon I stumbled upon you. You smiled at me. The moment you started to talk about being a friend and caring for others, I thought this is my chance.

I did not plan to fall in love. It just happened. I did not plan to fall out of love, either. It just happened.

Not feeling anything for you, makes this much easier. This is beyond the bullying and you not loving me. This is not about you, or the world, or anyone else.

I am doing this to save myself.

Die gevangenis verander mens. Ek het myself op sekere vlakke gevind, en op ander vlakke het ek myself weer verloor. Maar dit is lewe – ‘n avontuur waar die ware ek groei en verander, waar ek myself op ‘n plek gaan vind en myself weer in iemand of iets gaan verloor. Die lewe is ‘n konstante vloei van lewe, die tiek-tok van die klok en die heelal wat vir ons tekens stuur van kanse vat, waag, leef en liefhê.

Na twaalf jaar staan ek op parool. My een voet buite die selle terwyl my ander voet steeds standvastig in die selle staan. Ek kyk vir ‘n laaste keer na die sel waar twaalf jaar opgesluit is in herinneringe, lesse, lewe en groei. Waar vriende gekom en gegaan het. Waar ek my eerste liefde ontmoet het. Waar ek met ‘n gebroke hart leer voel het. Waar my siel met ‘n vliegtuigkaartjie gevlug het na ‘n ander era, ‘n ander wêreld. Waar ek begin droom het.

Boom

©Melissa van Eeden

by hierdie boom het ek groot geword

in die koelte my onskuld gelaat

en in die son begin dans

 

die seisoene het my bevry

waar die kleure met die tye verander

die blomme het gebot tot die lewe se lot

die seisoene het my geboei

gevangene tot die verwyt van tyd

waar die winter skuins na somer draai

trane met verlepte blomme op die graf verlate

met die afsydigheid en teer wat die dood forseer

waar die blomme nie meer sal blom

en die son nie meer sal kom

by hierdie boom het ek die lewe geniet

geleer van die wêreld deur die oë van fases

en van die lewe

waar elke einde weer begin

Gevangenis 2017 – Ek word voorwaardelik vrygelaat. Januarie 2018 verskyn ek weer voor die hof, regter en jurie wat dan oor my toekoms sal beslis.

My toekoms is nou net een tree weg.

 

Hierdie is net die begin.

xxx

Droom groot!

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IT

I was left amazed by the new adapted Stephen King movie, IT. I am not a fan of horror, although I was left astonished with the quality of the film, as well as the themes it addresses.

I sat in the IMAX theatre awaiting the pre-release of IT, with a bowl of popcorn and Coke. On my one side sat a man in his thirties and on my other side a seventeen-year-old boy. As the movie started, I noticed how some people created their own way of dealing with the horror the film was about to bring. Laughs were one of the most common. By the end of the movie, everyone in the cinema was shook in one way or another. I sat there as the credits rolled and thought about how brilliant Stephen King was.

It exploits people’s fears (I think King had done some research on the most common fears of man, which weren’t the everyday spiders and snakes). In one way or another, the common viewer can identify with the character, the fear or the situation. By identifying with the fear, the viewer is forced to reckon with it. The film expresses that fear conquers one’s mind – if you let it. (“His fear was already gone; it had slipped away from him as easily as a nightmare slips away from a man who wakes, cold-skinned and gasping from its grip; who feels his body and stares at its surroundings to make sure that none of it had ever happened and who then begins at once to forget it. Half is gone at the time his feet hit the floor; three-quarters of it by the time he emerges from the shower and begins to towel off; all by the time he finishes breakfast. All gone. . . until the next time, when, in the grip of the nightmare, all fears will be remembered.”)

The themes in the film are dexterously introduced to the audience, possessed by fear and the characters’ actions. Immediate themes that come to mind are friendship, bullying, peer pressure. Throughout the film, the theme friendship is tested. The losers’ club are faced with their own fears and whether they can face (IT). Bullying – a serious matter which alters some of the characters’ fears or actions – is a global issue, especially in high school. Subjects such as abuse, molestation and rape by parents and closed ones are exposed through the emotional and psychological effect on the characters. Overprotective parents and the loss of a sibling rage children to act against their parents’ wishes. (“But who knows how long a grief may last? Isn’t it possible that, even thirty or forty years after the death of a child or a brother or a sister, one may half waken, thinking of that person with the same lost emptiness, that feeling of places which may never be filled… not even in death?”)

The quality of the film is impressive. The imagery used throughout the film creates the sense of horror that will scar the viewers for that moment, if not for life. The sound screams to the greatness of an IMAX theatre where the sounds of wood floor creaking, the teasing voices of familiarity and salvation to the captured souls (“We all float down here!”) and taunting music lures through the seats and finally whispers an unanticipated exhale in your ear.

 

I hope (it) captures you to face and finally conquer your fears. “You gain strength, courage, and confidence by every experience in which you really stop to look fear in the face. You are able to say to yourself, ‘I lived through this horror. I can take the next thing that comes along.’” – Eleanor Roosevelt.

 

*(All quotations are from the Stephen King novel, IT.)

Follow the link to see how It would lure you into the sewers: http://lolsided.com/?quiz=131.

 

TIME

Tick-tock. Tick-tock. Time is running out on the clock. The hours are mere seconds away.

In this deprivation, I ask, “WHAT IS TIME?”

We measure our days in time, in seconds, minutes and hours. According to exactlywhatistime.com there are various short definitions proven by physics such as Albert Einstein. The definitions may seem incomplete, but time is never really a comprehensive orgy. Here is some of the definitions listed on the website:

  • what clocks measure (attr. to physicists Albert Einstein, Donald Ivey, and others)
  • what prevents everything from happening at once (physicist John Wheeler and others)
  • a linear continuum of instants (philosopher Adolf Grünbaum)
  • a certain period during which something is done (Medical Dictionary)
  • a continuum that lacks spatial dimensions (Encyclopaedia Britannica)

To be honest, all these definitions make sense. We use time to schedule our lives. You work from nine to five. You plan to go out at eight. We use time to measure our days. Time is consistent. Every millisecond is precise. Every hour lets the clock scream as time seem to run out or joyously celebrate another hour gone by. I remember when I was a child, I would visit my grandma. In her living room, there was this clock. At every hour, it had this ding-dong sound to indicate what hour it was. Time is given to us as deadlines – dead: time is given to us from our birth to your death; deadlines: time is used to preserve order, assurance and deliverance, and writer’s block. I hate to write in a time controlled environment. I am forced to suppress my thoughts and ideas without developing any creative concepts, but rather ideas that seem concrete and justifiable. I have read along the way that there is no time in space. I don’t know if it is true, but imagine for a moment that time didn’t exist.

I had a dream this morning. It was nine o’clock. Time ran marathons around me. I had to run against time to save whatever it was I had to save. I can’t really remember the whole dream, but I remember feeling anxious as time would run out and life will surpass me. We all run this marathon against time and life. No one is immortal and can beat this life. There is an eternity to try, but we will never exceed. Or perhaps we just need an Albert Einstein who would dare to tempt fate and time and life. We need someone who will fight for science and physics and the wonders of the world. Is that perhaps you? When I woke up out of this dream, it was barely seven o’clock. Time wasn’t speeding along on the highway, yet it felt like it. Have you ever felt that time moves faster when you are asleep than when you are awake?

There is a lot of theories and philosophies about time. I am peculiarly interested in the modern philosophies where no one wants to admit the existence of time.

Presentism

This philosophy believes that only the present is real (thus calling it presentism), while the view that all points in time are equally “real” is referred to as eternalism.

Presentism would ultimately erase our history. No more Apartheid. No more Cold War. No more Nazis and Hitler. This philosophy rules out any past or future, but thrusts on the present. You ought to live for today, and not for tomorrow, nor for yesterday. “Thus, according to presentism, only present objects and present experiences can be said to truly exist, and things come into existence and then drop out of existence.”

Lady Antebellum sings this song called “I was here”. With presentism in mind, can you leave your mark on earth, in life? I recently encountered a lot of references to leaving your mark and the human’s desperate desire to be remembered and their frantic fight against immortality. I have read stories and poems, heard songs and viewed paintings that all scream their creator’s aspiration to life (or to die). Every one of us long to a sense of belonging and identity. We ought to admit it to ourselves that we are mortal beings that will be born into a life that is not all moonshine and roses, that we will live and that we will die. It is the circle of life. Vincent van Gogh never painted to leave a mark, or that is what I think. He painted because it was his passion. He wasn’t recognised for it – for I brilliancy and genius at the time. It was only after his death that his work got the appreciation it deserved. Perhaps, you are struggling and cannot see the light at the end of the tunnel. Perhaps, you need time which life refuses to give you. Perhaps, you are reading this to comprehend time and life and your situation.

Our society has put a curse on time, describing it as a burden, when we should in fact be expressing time in the love we give, in the moments we create, in the quality and quantity of things that we do.

The late Whitney Houston described eternity as moments of overcoming fears, becoming your dream and to embrace your destiny.

“I want one moment in time

When I’m more than I thought I could be

When all of my dreams are a heartbeat away

And the answers are all up to me

Give me one moment in time

When I’m racing with destiny

Then in that one moment of time

I will feel

I will feel eternity”

I will feel eternity…

In that one moment of time…

MEID

Nes in daai dae – die dae toe my ma haar moes afsloop aan wittes om my en my broer ‘n lewe te gee wat sy nooit kon gehad het nie – bedien ek nou ook die Heiliges van Apartheid. Elke oggend staan ek op voor die son sy glimlag op die duistere horison kan lê, om betyds te wees vir die taxi wat sesuur by die stop wag. Vyf voor agt klop ek aan die Baas se voordeur. My skof begin agtuur. Ek verneder myself deur om daai domestic worker-uitrusting te dra – daardie een met die groen en geel blommetjies; jy ken hom, mens koop dit by Checkers vir 99. “Ja Baas” wys ek respek aan hom wat my diligeer asof ek dankbaar moet wees. “Ja Miesies” knik ek vir die ma’am wat my uittrap oor die werk wat ek die vorige keer afgeskeep het. “Maria, jy is nog nie klaar met die wasgoed nie. Hoekom nie? Dit is nie so moeilik om die goed in die masjien te sit nie.” Die Miesies se oë val op ‘n hopie stof in die hoekie van die sitkamer. “Kyk hoe half maak jy skoon.” Ek knik, instemmend, want dit is wat die norm beaam.

Ek wys respek vir die witte, maar dan word ek soos die kind behandel: moet gesien word, maar nie gehoor word nie. Dit is so. Ek sal die mat stofsuig, en dan sal hulle in die kamer gaan sit en niks doen, nee ek mag nie sê niks doen nie. As ek klaar is sal hulle ‘n ogie kom gooi met naaldwerk, die Miesies brei deesdae. Ek hang die wasgoed op. Hulle dra baie klere. En net voor ek die agterdeur oopmaak, hoor ek hulle praat. Ek bly buite, wil hulle nie steur nie. “Sy werk alweer half vandag. Sy het dit ook laasweek gedoen. Ek kan nie meer nie.” Die Miesies se stem is kwaai.

Ek dink na aan wat die Miesies gesê het, toe ek op die taxi terug huis toe ry. Hoekom kan sy nie die werk doen nie? Sy is lui. Ek weet daar is mense wat werk en so, maar sy werk nie, brei net die heeldag. Jy moet hulle huis sien. Groot, morsig en vuil. Ek moet alles doen. Die Miesies weet nie eers hoe werk die masjien nie. Sê vir my dit vat nie so lank om die goed in die masjien te sit nie, hoekom doen sy dit nie? Want die wittes is privilegded, nie almal nie, maar hulle is. Ek hoor wat hulle sê. Die swartes wil nie werk nie, soek net. Ja, ons soek net – ons soek net ‘n lewe waar die wittes vir die swartes as maid sal werk – dit is mos gelykheid, né? Ag, die politics.

Ek is ‘n meid. So sê die witte Baas vir wie ek werk.

Geskryf deur Melissa van Eeden

2am-VERLANGE

Ons woorde het verdamp tot ondraaglike stiltes wat begin skree (soos ‘n baba met koliek) in die vroegoggendure waar ek alleen in my bed lê en jy alleen in joune. Die maan hang steeds aan ‘n toutje in die hemelruim met verskietende sterre wat oor sy wange drup. Dit is twee-uur en ek wonder of jy ook nou deur jou kamervenster kyk op soek na antwoorde in die sterre. Sou ons oë mekaar in dieselfde blik op ‘n ster ontmoet? Ek glo nie, want indien my oë skelm na jou draai en per ongeluk jou bruin oë ontmoet, bars ‘n ongemaklikheid oor ons en voel ek en jy verleë. Ek vind antwoorde in musiek, alhoewel dit nie die antwoorde is waarna ek gesoek het nie. Ek karoake op Taylor Swift – hoop dat die lewe tog ‘n movie is soos sy ook wens “but if this was a movie you’d be here by now/It’s not the kind of ending you wanna see now”. Ek kan nie slaap nie. Jou woorde speel soos ‘n gramofoonplaat wat vasgehak het, oor en oor in my gedagtes. Jy blyk onskuldig en verward oor hoe vinnig ‘n onskuldige gesprek tot die einde van ons “vriendskap?” (of wat ook al jy dit noem) kon lei. Ek lê nou alleen met ‘n leë plek langs aan my, ‘n holte waar jy altyd gelê het. My lakens ruik nog soos jy. Ek sal dit oor en oor moet was om daardie naskeermiddel wat jy gebruik het, uit te was. Die kussing waarop jy geslaap het, besit al jou drome wat jy snags opgetower het. Ek het twee koppies koffie vanoggend in my moegheid gemaak – wie gaan die ander een drink? Ek mis jou, maar ek sal dit nie hardop erken nie. Ek was verslaaf aan jou, aan die gevoel wat jy vir my gegee het as jou hand liggies en subtiel aan myne raak en jou skaam skewe glimlag wat jou gesig laat ophelder het. Ek mis ons gesprekke tot drie-uur die oggend waar ons oor alles en niks kon praat. Nou sit ek alleen met my gedagtes, jou woorde en ‘n spook wat my hart om middernag kom wakker klop met skuldgevoel en hartseer, met gebrokenheid oor wat nie meer is nie of wat nooit werklik was nie. Agter ons woorde het geheime geskuil wat ons nie wou openbaar nie. In ons oë kon die waarheid nooit asemhaal nie, omdat ons getinte vensters gehad het om ons siele te beskerm teen verwerping. My foon vibreer en klink op teen die nag se stiltes. Ek wens dit was ‘n boodskap van jou. [eks jamer] jou spelfoute het my nog altyd geïrriteer. Wees bly, jy is nou ontslae daarvan. Dan hoekom mis ek dit, mis ek om jou foute uit te wys en reg te maak? Trane rol uit die gleufies van my oë en klou aan my wange vas. Het ek ‘n fout begaan?

My gedagtes vlug hier vandaan, loop kaalvoet op die teerpad, gooi duim by die verkeerslig. Kan iemand asseblief my optel en my neem waar dit nie meer sal seermaak nie. Ek skribbel halwe woorde in my notaboek. Gedigte skets my hart, my gemoed, my gedagtes. Jy is in almal van hulle. Die hoofletter waarmee die gedig begin en die punt waarmee die gedig tot ‘n einde kom. Jy is die vrye vers waarmee ek myself vasketting aan sorgelose struktuur. Jy is die paarrym wat my woorde laat rymdwang [in die skemer skuil jy agter kakiebos/skryf ek steeds briewe wat ek nooit pos] My woorde maak nie veel sin nie.

Dit is 2:59.

geskryf deur Melissa van Eeden

SPORE

Spore

Geskryf deur Melissa van Eeden

 

Eensaam

staan Spore op die stasie waar hy wag

vir die trein na Johannesburg

waar hy sy drome gaan najaag

hy hoor reeds die begeleiding

van die stadsgedruis waarop hy snags

gaan neurie voordat hy verval in ‘n onderbroke slaap

van ‘n taxi se toet ‘n streekstaal wat mense

in die verbygaan klets die neonligte wat as

tydaanwysing dien vir die nag

 

om die draai kom hy aan gehardloop

die lokomotief wat voort storm

Spore tel sy koffer op, voel-voel

aan sy sak vir die drie klippies

sy glimlag breed getrek op sy armoedige gesig

‘n skreeuende fluit jaag die voëls uit hul neste wat nou swerm in die

blou lug met gesketsde rookwolke soos die lokomotief ‘n laaste

teug neem van die sigaret voordat die sigaretstompie

by die venster uitgesmyt word

die lokomotief skop vas teen die yster

en stop voor Spore

die deure ruk oop

niemand klim uit

Spore gee die man twee klippe voor hy in klim

die laaste klip sal hy gebruik om sy moeder te bel

as hy veilig in Johannesburg bestem

SPOT(IFY) THE FEUD: lyrics hide the evident truth

The feud between the two pop singers, Katy Perry and Taylor Swift, has been heating up since Katy Perry’s appearance on James Corden’s Carpool Karaoke on 22 May 2017. Katy Perry addressed the feud between the two which started back in 2012 when Katy stole Taylor’s backup dancers for her RED-tour, as well as some lapse in communication between the two. Katy seems to lay the blame before Taylor’s feet, as she explains that she tried to smoothen things out numerous times. Katy mentions in her statement that “It was a full shutdown and then she writes a song about me…that’s how you want to deal with it? Karma!”

Karma! Sounds like Swish Swish, Perry’s new single, is written about the feud and Taylor Swift. “Karma’s not a liar, she keeps receipts”. Swish Swish is a reaction to Taylor Swift’s Bad Blood which is written about Katy and evidently be they were close in 2009 (“mad love”) to enemies and feuding in 2012 (“bad blood”). To put gasoline on this already burning fire, both singers speak about bullets in songs. Katy mentions bullets in her song, Bullet, saying “I’m a bullet and I’m headed/Straight for you heart (yeah)/Be careful what you start!/I’m a bullet and I’m headed/Straight for you heart (yeah)/It’s gonna leave a mark!”. I know that this song is intended for a boy who broke her heart as the song continues. But then again, Taylor sings in Bad Blood that “Band-aids don’t fix bullet holes/You say sorry just for show/If you live like that, you live with ghosts”. That just answers to Katy’s apologises that appears to be insincere.

I am not going to go into all the glory, or rather gory details, of the feud. On 9 June 2017, precisely on 00:00, Katy Perry’s Witness album launched worldwide. At that same time, Taylor Swift had uploaded all five her albums on Spotify, as well as opened it to Amazon Music and Pandora Premium. Her albums also trended to be on discount on iTunes. This sudden launch seemed peculiar as Swift had indifferences with Spotify in 2014 just before her launch of her pop album 1989. The launch seemed to be throwing shade on Katy’s Witness album, and ultimately fans of Katy, as well as Taylor’s called her out to be sneaky, fake and a vindictive snake. Couldn’t she launch it a week later? The official reasoning for the release is that Taylor Swift’s last album, 1989, sold 10 million copies. But it seems that that isn’t the reason for this relaunch on Spotify. It seems to be the new licensing deal between her distributor, Universal Music Group, and Spotify, and the realities of releasing music in 2017. The modern age of music is online and digital.

Regarding the feud, that spurs the moment of media, I personally think that Katy Perry opened old wounds on James Corden’s Carpool Karaoke. If she didn’t mention or emphasise this feud, the media would have left it in the ashes. But as the phoenix rises out of the ashes, Taylor came to act with music, rather than words to console. If Katy really wanted to console, she would have left this feud out of the media. Perhaps, Katy brought up the feud for attention and media, publicity. It would make sense. (New Album needs promotion. Her tour. American Idol.) Although, Taylor was vindictive and shallow, her means may be to put someone in her place. Their friendship may have been treacherous and buried with bad blood, but their feud is hot and cold as their words and actions roar upon the media’s attention.

As you know singers write about their own lives, experiences, heartache, pain and joy. Taylor is known to write her pain into her songs. Just like a breakup song, Taylor motioned her feud into songs. Katy had done the same. Let’s refer to a few examples:

GHOSTS:

  • Katy: (Ghosts) “And now you’re just a ghost/When I look back never would have known that/You could be so cold”
  • Taylor: (Bad Blood) “If you live like that, you live with ghosts (ghosts)”

REVENGE:

  • Katy: (It takes one, to know one) “Cause’ it takes one, to know one/Congrats you’ve met your match/You think I’d lie here, heartbroken/(I’d-lie-here)/But the knife is in your back/(In-your-back)”
  • Taylor: (Revenge) “R-E-V-E-N-G-E My list of things to do this week/Jealousy, misery, gonna give you what you gave to me/Make you feel so B-A-D/Break you, make you sorry/I hope you cry getting my R-E-V-E-N-G-E”

STEALING:

  • Katy: (Roulette) “Playing by the rules in this game of life”
  • Taylor: (Better than Revenge) “Soon she’s gonna find/Stealing other people’s toys/On the playground won’t/Make you many friends”

FAIRY TALES and MOVIES:

  • Katy: (Not Like The Movies) “I didn’t feel the fairy-tale feeling, no./Am I a stupid girl for even dreaming that I could?/If it’s not like the movies,”
  • Taylor: (If This Was A Movie) “But if this was a movie you’d be here by now/It’s not the kind of ending you wanna see now” and (Today was a fairytale) “Today was a fairytale/You were the prince/I used to be a damsel in distress”

WRITING SONGS:

  • Katy: (Save as draft) “I could just throw a line to you/But I should let sleeping dogs lie ’cause I know better, baby/I write it/Erase it/Repeat it/But what good will it do/To reopen the wound/So I take a deep breath/And I save as draft”
  • Taylor: (Writing Songs About You) “I’ll keep writing songs about you/I’ve got a stack of papers so high/And it’s all about you baby/Keep thinking maybe I/Can make sense of something crazy/Something I can’t get out of my Head/I write your name I write your name/Then I tear it all to shreds”

It is evident that although these two singers are feuding, their hearts write the songs that speak similar languages to their audience. Perhaps, this feud motivates and inspires them to challenge and compete to be better artists and songwriters.

Let’s WITNESS how these two brilliant artists be FEARLESS in a world where our (Perry and Taylor) minds are in a maze spiralling into the media’s hands.

 

RELATED ARTICLES:

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5tvxzLK3rFs

http://www.digitalspy.com/showbiz/feature/a651842/katy-perry-vs-taylor-swift-a-timeline-of-their-reported-feud/

http://www.cosmopolitan.com/uk/entertainment/news/a44667/taylor-swift-katy-perry-feud-timeline/

http://abcnews.go.com/Entertainment/katy-perry-explains-public-taylor-swift-feud-im/story?id=47936992

http://www.azlyrics.com/t/taylorswift.html

http://www.azlyrics.com/k/katyperry.html

DERICK-AANHANGERS KNOU WÉÉR VIR KARLIEN OP SOSIALE MEDIA

Op vandeesweek se Huisgenoot (8 Junie 2017) pryk die beeldskone gesig van die popprinses Karlien van Jaarsved met ‘n artikel in die Huisgenoot wat handel oor haar huwelik met die destydse rugbyspeler, Joe Breytenbach, haar swangerskap, haar musiekloopbaan en haar geluk.

Die artikel (geskryf deur Marisa Focheman) blyk eerlik en opreg, bevry Karlien se woorde, waardes en persoonlikheid tot ‘n “veilige” ruimte, maar nes Karlien ook voorheen al geleer het, en veral in die jare 2015/2016 ervaar het hoe die media, sosiale media en aanhangers wat niks weet nie, menings wil lug oor dinge wat hulle nie traak nie. Wat veronderstel was om ‘n mooi artikel te wees waarin Karlien vry word van al die seer, word dit toegesmeer deur aanhangers van haar eksman, die Liefling van Loftus, Derick Hougaard, wat haar slegsê oor ‘n enkele beskrywing wat sy gee vir haar en Derick se huwelik – “vasgevang en in ‘n seer plek gevoel het”.

Verslaggewing wat Derick se aanhangers rooi laat sien het was die van Channel 24 se The Juice wat daarop klem lê in die opskrif “Karlien tells Huisgenoot that she has regrets about her marriage to Derick” dat Karlien verwyte dra oor dié huwelik. Karlien praat ook van die seer wat sy ervaar het in die huwelik, dat sy met die kortstondige afstel van die troue al moes geweet het, maar dat sy gehoop dat die probleme met die huwelik sou verander. Eerlikwaar, Derick ken ook die seer. In tyd van depressie en trauma lui die vrae “wat kon ek anders gedoen het?”, “wat as…?” en die vrae neem ek aan het ook in Karlien en Derick se koppe gemaal. “Regrets” wysig op die verwyte van tyd en gebeure. Karlien verwyt die seer wat die huwelik gebring het, maar sy verwyt nie die liefde wat daaruit geblom het nie. Tog, in die Channel 24-artikel noem The Juice nes daar in die Huisgenoot staan dat Karlien nooit die tyd sou wou terug draai nie, want uit haar en Derick se huwelik het hul tweelingseuntjies, Daniël en Eliah, lewe gevind en dra sy ook hul dogtertjie, Evah, saam met haar, nes Derick. Karlien meen dat hul seuntjies vir Derick as ‘n held moet sien en dat hulle hul pa soveel as moontlik sien. Sy het al vorige artikels, onderhoude en Facebook-inskrywings genoem dat sy nie Derick in die publiek sal afmaak en slegsê nie.

Dus, lui die opskrif op Channel 24 ‘n halwe waarheid. Nes Karlien, ervaar Derick ook pyn en seer van hul mislukte huwelik. Derick het al ‘n paar keer in die Huisgenoot verskyn waar hy praat oor sy seer as pa en as man. Hy het ook al talle onderhoude aan koerante soos Beeld en Rapport toegestaan waar hy praat oor die bekende (of is dit die berugte, befaamde?) ring, skei en die kostes daaraan verbonde. Hougaard het homself ook in ‘n Facebook-inskrywing beskryf as die slagoffer wat hy blyk te wees en dat hy uit die persona van die slagoffer wil kom.

Tog, het Derick die artikel wat op Channel 24 verskyn met die pynlike, verwytende titel “Karlien tells Huisgenoot that she has regrets about her marriage to Derick” gedeel op sy persoonlike Facebook-blad. Daar is ook ‘n “support group” en blad op Facebook – Support for Derick Hougaard – waar dié ondersteuners Karlien slegsê. Karlien was in 2016 afgetakel deur die media, sosiale media en aanhangers en buitestaanders na haar en Derick se egskeiding, nuwe liefde, finansiële kwessies, tirades op sosiale media. Karlien het besluit om haar lewe privaat te hou en min, indien geen inligting oor haar private lewe met die publiek en media te deel.

Karlien meen dat haar nuwe album, Sing Vir Liefde, haar eerlikste album is. Dit is outobiografies van aard, omdat Karlien haar hart uitgestort het in liedjies soos “My kruis”, “Skop as ek lê” en “Twee huise”. Karlien is eerlik dat sy die musiekbedryf wou verlaat, maar die Here se wil gebruik nog haar stem om boodskappe oor te dra en mense aan te raak. Die media is ‘n kruis. Die woorde en kommentaar wat mens aftakel is ‘n kruis. Netso, is Maandae ook ‘n kruis vir meeste mense. Watter kruis dra jy?

Die woorde wat ek in “Support for Derick Hougaard”-kommentaarboksies gelees het, maak my skaam. Ek dink nie Derick, of Karlien, of enigiemand, verdien om sleg gesê te word nie. Menswaardigheid is tog inderdaad ‘n mensereg en dra by tot die mens wat die samelewing bou of aftakel. As jy nie iets opbouend en goed kan sê nie, sê dan liewer niks. Party mense het al geleer dat jy nie almal tevrede sal kan stel nie, maar dit gee jou nie die reg om iemand se lewe ondraaglik te maak nie. Derick meen in ‘n tweet in 2016: “Ons mors ons tyd en ons woorde. Breek af as gevolg van jou eie ego,” lui die twiet. Bou eerder mense op en wees daar vir hulle.”

“Daar is baie goeie mense in die wêreld. Moenie toelaat dat die negatiewes jou aandag aftrek en so jou vreugde steel nie.” Karlien beskryf die In Jou Skoene-program wat deur VIA geloots is, as ‘n “eye-opener” tot die goeie mense wat nie afbrekend is tot die gemeenskap en individu nie.

Derick, maak die lewe jou sportsveld, dan kan jy elke dag rugby speel met die bal wat jy met elke sukses oor die pale skop. Sien jou ondersteuners as die vol stadium. Sien die seer as die adrenalien wat inskop voor ‘n game en dat dit jou ‘n sterker man sal maak. [DERICK (TWITTER): “Every sportsman’s dream. Going out on your terms and a full stadium. The power of sport.”]

Karlien, laat die lirieke wat jy neerpen jou suiwer van die pyn, van die seer, en wees ‘n vrygees in die tyd waar geluk jou omhels met liefde.

 

Lees die artikels hier:

karlien-tells-huisgenoot-that-she-has-regrets-about-her-marriage-to-derick

DID LIFE GET EASIER?

Did life get easier?

In my opinion, yes. Of course, life still gives you lemons… You choose to make lemonade or keep it lemons. But that’s not why I asked that question. I understand that life is hard, difficult to understand, complicated, rushed and add any adjective you want.

Lately, I have been wondering about today’s youth and society. Today’s youth, but not just the youth, but society too, has become lethargic and non-existent. Just hear me out, because you might agree with my statement.

Life is served on a silver platter – in most cases. This statement disregards any work and education. This statement regards any other subject like responsibilities, independence, effort, fame, luxuries, etc.

“If you take responsibility for yourself you will develop a hunger to accomplish your dreams.” – Les Brown. Today’s youth act irresponsible towards their future, dreams and their present. I am in a homeroom where most of the students are smokers and drinkers. There are two, maybe three, students who excel academically. There are about ten students who excel on various sports fields. I may be wrong, and totally surprised in a few years, but when I look at my class, I don’t really see a future with strong, independent leaders and pioneers.

I was raised to be independent. I like to work alone, by myself. I dream big. I dare to challenge my fears and my comfort zone. I work hard – harder than I should, some would say. I have heard this phrase a lot “You will come far in life. Just keeping doing what you do.”. It means a lot to me to have support and people who believe in me. Now, you may say that this phrase is fabricated and that it is given to me on a silver platter. No, I work hard, I study hard, I don’t really sleep (I like sleep and when I sleep, I sleep…zzz…), I dream of a life I want and I chase it with everything (every fear, every ambition) I have in me.

But I can’t say the same about the youth and society we live in. I came across a few examples where life seems easier for some. That is because they depend on others to achieve success. The first example is about depending on others to do your work. The second example is innovative thinking.

Example ONE: There is this girl in my business class. Let’s call her Bridgette. She already started summarizing business studies a month ago. The teacher was, is, impressed and in awe with her. She is the only student that has started studying for the exams. Wait before you applaud. What I was quick to learn was that in this past month she only summarized seventy pages (we must study 200 pages). She only summarized in two periods (in school) a day and didn’t study or summarize anything afterschool and at home. She got bored after she found herself stuck and unmotivated. She quit summarizing in class time. When I queried her, she answered that her mother would do it for her. Where is your responsibility and independence as a senior, next a varsity student?

Example TWO: We had an assignment due for dramatic arts. I always put innovative thinking and effort into my projects. A previous assignment I used the layout of a newspaper. This time I used a police file as background for my project. The drama teacher gladly welcomed my assignment. The following day, I saw the layout of my assignment, adjusted to a psychological file, in a classmate’s project. I queried it.

Through these two examples, I direct the statement I made earlier to the youth’s inability to be pioneers of a modern time.

It also became easier to be famous and seen. In an article on Elite Daily it subjects around fame nowadays. Modernised technology, social media and publications (mediums like blogging, vlogging, self-publishing) makes it easier to be seen by someone influential or even just by a retweet or a share. Don’t get me wrong. Some industries are still hard before conquering any fame. It costs a lot of effort, persistence and artistic quality. Yet, in cases like YouTube where Justin Bieber was discovered gives one a platform to be seen worldly. You can build up followers by just saying what they want to hear, and in cases don’t want to hear.

Life is served on a silver platter – in most cases. Our youth and society has become a mankind of glorious disgust and indolence. Our future is in the hands of our youth – that smokes the clouds we see (clouds that don’t bring rain, but pollution), that still depends on Mommy and Daddy rather than accepting responsibility, that is too frightened to speak their minds like Shakespeare or EE Cummings or any other pioneer in the previous centuries.

To our youth: ACT (not dramatic), but responsible, independent, innovative like pioneers that tomorrow’s youth will loop upon, graciously. “We are raising today’s children in sterile, risk-averse and highly structured environments. In so doing, we are failing to cultivate artists, pioneers and entrepreneurs, and instead cultivating a generation of children who can follow the rules in organized sports games, sit for hours in front of screens and mark bubbles on standardized tests.” – Darell Hammond.

Did life get easier?
Leave your thoughts in the comments below.

SOMETHING OLD, SOMETHING NEW, SOMETHING BLUE

Something old, something new, something blue.

I know what you were thinking. But, no. This isn’t a wedding. This is your typical Monday thoughts.

It is a day some people dream of, and yet it is also the day most men are frightened by. Let me explain why Monday is just another wedding day…

Anew: Every week begins with Monday. Therefore, a new life, a new journey, another chance is represented by this day. For example, On Monday I will start my diet or go to the gym. “The wedding is just the start of a new life, together.”

Cold feet: On Sunday evening, you will reflect on the past week and plan the following week. Most people dread the thought of Monday morning. They are not motivated to climb out of bed Monday morning and look the world in the eyes. Society fears Mondays.

Something old: Something old represents continuity and endurance. Every Monday is the same old Monday. Same routine. Same melancholy.

Something new: Something new offers optimism for the future. Some people put their hopes and goals on Monday. Perhaps a new week will be a better week. Perhaps this week I will be motivated to go to the gym.

Something borrowed: Something borrowed symbolizes borrowed happiness. But there is nothing joyful on a Monday morning stuck in traffic or being late. Mondays only borrow the change of date. 15 MAY – 22 MAY – 29 MAY. But it is still a Monday – blue as usual.

Something blue: Something blue opportune for purity, love, and fidelity. Blue is the sky to whom I ask why… Blues is a term used in music to express sadness through transparency and honesty. Blue is the term of melancholy and depression.

Tux (Penguin suit): Monday is a bird of a different feather, when considered the rest of the week.

“Monday is like a math problem (and a marriage). Add the irritation (of a spouse), subtract the sleep (late nights 😉 and children), multiply the problems (work, life, family), divide the happiness (fights).”

Enjoy your marriage… I mean, Monday!

MOVIES: “It would be a privilege to have my heart broken by you.” – LOVE

Love is commonly romanced. It is embraced by movies as the one thing that will end, or start, all wars. The journey to find love is immediate, a glimpse of his smile or just a skip of a heartbeat. Movies circle around the love that must be found again, after something interferes with it like circumstance, time or a quarrel, or how to embrace the one you love. Regarding the love found in someone, it never turns out to be the next girl, but that girl. Women fall in love with the story, with the man and with the idealistic romance movies provide.

Movies show us, the audience, how love should be or how we must chase or embrace love and romance and life.

If this was a movie…

Girl, let’s call her Kay, falls in love with a boy, let’s call him John. She writes him a letter to tell him how she feels. He reads it, but feels nothing. He isn’t ready for a relationship, he says. She tries to understand, nods and walks away. After a few months, or years, realizes that he feels something, an indescribable feeling. He then texts her with hope that she still feels the same way. She does. She never really got over him. They message each other. A few nights till 3 A.M. (This is usually where the movie gets its happily ever after. Love that stands through time.) Kay feels that this may go further. John, on the other hand doesn’t know if he is up for something serious and distance himself from their chats and from Kay. He then starts to date juniors – insecurity and commitment issues. Kay gets over him, starts to date, but something in her longs to an unknown. She then realises that she still feels something for John. Is John ready to dump the junior he is dating, with his insecurities and commitment issues, to let fate finally seize the day?

If life was a movie…

SELFIE

 

AFRIKAANS :
Ek loer met my hande gebak om my oë, deur die venster en sien hoe jy daar by tafel sit met ‘n iPhone in jou hand. Jy tik idees, aanhalings en notas vir jou volgende selfie-post. Filosofies. Uit die boks. Nee, vee ‘uit die boks’ uit – skryf liewer geen boks – no limits (behalwe as dit by drank kom). Jy druk die kamera-toep. Pout. In gedagte. Kyk in die kamera. Fokus. Sit ‘n hoed op. Sit sonbrille op. Lyk cool. Swag. Moenie smile nie. Smile is so laas dekade. Edit die selfies met beautifier. Sit ‘n filter op – black and white, sutro, 1920’s. Caption this. Hashtags. Post dit op Instagram. Wag vir die notifications – Xander98 just liked your photo. Sukses bloei na die hoeveelste notification – jou selfie van ‘n man(vrou) wat smag na die aanvaarding van die samelewing en ‘n gevoel van lewe deur ‘n filosofiese aanhaling met ‘n gedokterde foto
was ‘n hit.

ENGLISH :
I peak through your window and see a man sitting at the table with an iPhone in his hand. You type ideas, quotes and notes for your next selfie post. Philosophical. Out of the box. No, rather no box – there is no limits. You click on the camera and a few moments later, your face appears to be the centre of attention. Pout. In thought. Stare into the camera. Focus. Put accerrosies on. Underline cool. Swag. Don’t smile. Smiling is so last decade. Edit the selfies with beautifier. Filter the images – black and white, sutro, 1920s. Caption this. Hashtags. Post it on Instagram. Wait for the first notifications – Xander98 just liked your photo. Success flourishes notification after notification, comment after comment – Your selfie of a man(woman) who tastes after the acceptance of society and a sense of life through a philosophical quote with a documented picture
was a hit.

dEpReSSioN

Depression suffocates our society, our youth, us. This is a thought that I found written on a crumpled paper, drowning in an overfull trash can.

I feel broken and I don’t know why. I feel suffocated by my circumstances and short of breath as my oxygen is little and my breathing haste. I long something or someone. Who or what, I don’t know. I am paralyzed – the cold made me numb. I am tired. I am –

Take me now before death comes.