It's a brand new day...
Last year was a strange year. Two
parts tragic, one part horrific, three parts infuriating and six
parts just plain ol' insane. It got to the point I stopped reading
the papers, stopped watching the news, turned off the radio and sunk
into a brainless abyss of...and I say this with great
shame...'Keeping up with the Kardashians'. That's right, I, (not)
Alex, was a slave to reality TV. For kendo 5 months. You know
you've lost your way when you know who French Montana is. You don’t
know who that is? Thank your gods. It was a scary spiral into
lethargy the likes of which I haven’t seen since I was in my mid
20's, fresh out of college and at a loss as to what to do next. Throw in the completely unrelated fact that I was on a misguided crusade to grow
an afro, because it occurred to me that it was time to liberate my
wallet from the clutches of the evil beauty industry, and the 'lost
at sea' look was complete. I felt ragged, I looked somewhat ragged
(combing natural hair sans moisturiser is not easy, at all, and these
buggers don’t tell you...), my thought process was ragged and, as
you probably noticed, my blogging was most ragged. I felt adrift,
yet motionless, melancholy seeping out of every pore like salty sweat
on a hot January day...
And I have no idea why.
Well, I do, sort of.
Work was slow. My personal life was,
shall we say, odd. My president was, is, visibly angry. Things were
shitty all around. But that wasn’t what got me lethargic. I think
it was simply that I got off the hamster wheel that is this rat race
we live. I didn’t mean to get off mind, at least not for that
long, I got off it for World Cup back in June and I just never got
back on. True story. I took those four weeks off to watch football
and in the process I somehow lost the urge to get back to the grind. Work hard? For what? I went on an unofficial go slow. No one
noticed. Once I realised I could wade through life with a bare
minimum of effort, well, everything else was promptly ditched. Write
maybe? Because that worked out so well in the past, she said
sarcastically, as she detangled her 'fro. Why not get my hair done,
that always puts a spring in my step, right? Bitch please, I'm on a
go slow, no? Read a few books then. Again I ask, for what? You
know how much I love to read, but the thought of picking up a book
filled me with dread. If it wasn’t for the reading I kept doing
online, I would be illiterate by now. Why not get laid more often,
at the very least? The complexities of getting laid at my age are
astounding. Yes, I will tell you about it one day. No, wait, I
already have. Which brings me back to, write maybe? And on and on
and on. All with the chattering Kardashians in the background,
flipping hair and flicking blackberries, all while delivering the most useless
monologues in the history of television. I tell you, there are
afternoons I could feel my brain decay, one numb cell at a time...
Fuck me, it was absolute bliss.
I know, I know, how dare I call such
nothingness bliss? How dare I be happy about doing nothing? My
lovelies, it really was fucking bliss, once I realised it couldn’t
possibly kill me. The way I figured, sometimes there's nothing to be
done. Sometimes the endless running around chasing the next deal is
meaningless motion without movement, an elaborate pretence at being
busy rather than actually being productive. Sometimes we just need
to sit down and stare at a TV screen for way too many hours, without
engaging in any form of meaningful thought. Sometimes, its worth
your own sanity to stop shouting into the wind and just shut the fuck
up, if for no other reason than to rest your tired voice, and maybe
rest other people's tired ears. Sometimes, but only sometimes, its
better to get yourself off, rather than spend countless chasing that
elusive shag, chasing and chasing. Sometimes you gotta let go...
I find myself just a little bit
stronger, got the weight up off my shoulders,
Feeling fine cause I'm in a new way...
Ladies and gentlemen, Rahsaan
Patterson, also known as he that would father my babies if he wasn't
gay (dammit!). This song was my 'you're ok now' song about four
years ago, I was going through a 'Neo Soul, in touch with my inner
spirit, wooosaaaa' phase as I adjusted to being alone (read lonely) in
a new house. 'Sometimes' was that song I'd blast at obscenely loud
volume on Sunday morning, on loop, singing along like he was singing
my truth. At the time he was, I think. I stumbled across the CD
in early December as I was doing my annual clearing of accumulated
junk (I am a reformed hoarder), I set it aside for a listen and
promptly forgot about it. Then I thought of it on Christmas Day
morning for some odd reason, stuck it in as I was getting ready to
drive to the village to cook for the clan...
A broken heart can mend in a day,
Long as you're travellin' in thunder
rain,
I'm clear of the storm, now I feel some
joy,
its a blessing, a blessing, I don’t
hurt no more,
Nowadays...
Find myself just a little bit warmer,
got the weight up off my shoulders,
Feeling fine cause I'm in a new day...
This is the thing about music, and it's
why music is such a huge part of this blog, these songs are tied to
memories. Memories of people and places, events and mishaps,
feelings and frames of mind. This song takes me back to a boozy
dinner (aren't they all?) with my almost baby brothers on a hot
evening not unlike this one, dirty dishes shoved to the side as we
sat around the table arguing the merits of whatever music one of us
was newly obsessed with (for the record, they didn’t much care for this song, useless philistines...). Maybe that's why I thought of it on
the day I was going to have another boozy meal with my somewhat philistine clan (my brother has been talking shit about The
Expendables. 'Eh?' I asked him, aghast, 'How is that even acceptable that
a grown idiot of right mind doesn’t get Stallone, Statham and co.? Shameful!' I have digressed...). This song takes me back to a happy place, even as it reminds me of a
particularly lonely, yet liberating, time in my life.
As it turned out, this song became the
bookend to a lovely period of bleh, a period that had to end, some might say fortunately, if only
so I could wash the stain of reality TV off my body and re-enter the
world of intelligent conversation and productivity. Four days later
I was back at work, soon thereafter the TV was turned off and a book
was picked up. It was inevitable, once I had no random voices in my house to distract me, that I would return to tell
you all about my many issues, such as I do, and to warn you about French Montana...
Sometimes you gotta let go, although
its not easy,
Sometimes you gotta let go, of a love
that ain’t so pleasing,
Sometimes you gotta say no,
Sometimes you gotta give it up, baby
let it all go...
It's a brand new day...
Happy new year, my lovelies. May this
year be kinder to us than the last.
In recognition of my tardiness last
year, I want to try something different this week. I've signed up for the #YourTurnChallenge, kinda. inspired by the always lovely Ms Malaka (I’m participating in the #YourTurnChallenge …Yikes!). The idea is 7 posts in 7 days, on pretty much anything, starting
today. I figure the best way to get back into to swing of things is
to get back into the swing of things, yes? Good plan, no? Stop shaking
your heads, that means six more posts for you this week. I can't
vouch for their quality, but hey, they're free. Minus internet
charges. And the cost of your time. But otherwise free. And probably short.
