Loving every minute cause you make me feel so alive....

Predictable 24...

I'm attempting to do this next post using this fancy new cell phone app... so just preempting a few spelling/grammatical errors...

I was going through all my social media bio's and having a good cringe at most of them... in every single one I describe myself as wild, forever young, free, forever 22 (I don't know why 22 came in here) wild heart,  never thinking with my head...you get the picture! I have been told my entire life that I was Peter Pan and that my head was always floating in the clouds - living in Neverland one could say. I have always enjoyed that...it has helped me make some very creative excuses as to why I was never good at maths, or why I chose not to go to university straight away because of a boyfriend, or why I am constantly spending money on things I just don't need, I do all this why? Because I'm a free, wild spirit!

However as I am no longer 22, the ink of my fresh "Finding Neverland" tattoo is starting to fade into my skin, I no longer have the money to spend on frivolous things, love and all that becomes a much more difficult and short lived joy because we're all in that limbo area where commitment takes so much more strength than it used to and I need maths, everyday! I also am not sailing around the world, or hiking through foreign mountains...no, I go to an office everyday 9-5 and I sit in meetings and have managers...it seems very far off from my existence in Neverland!

Am I disappointed that my life never developed any chaotic colour or magical whims? No I'm not... I get to form solid and everlasting "commitments." These commitments range from relationships to residency to getting healthy to being able to seriously focus on you as a person...sounds corny but it's matter of fact. I might lead a semi predictable life, but as I've said before, for me that was always going to be the adventure... predictability was going to be my challenge and as it turns out, the benefits if this life have been incomparable!
One day I'll sail off to Neverland... (cringe) and I'll have another type of adventure, become the wild spirited girl again...but for now, borderline 24, im really happy being predictable!

Why one needs to work in hospitality...

Stumbled upon this beautifully written article about working in the hospitality industry! I am pretty sure we have all been here at some point or another, and if you haven't, well this is a really different and captivating perspective on the industry and a good read...

8 reasons why you need to work in hospitality.

The hours suck. You’re in and organising before the first customer arrives and you’re still cleaning after the last ones leave. Sixteen hours later. Friday night is like Monday morning for normal people and Saturday feels like Wednesday. If you’re lucky enough to get Sunday night off you’re too buggered to want to go out but you do anyway because everyone else is also out venting. It so happens Sundays are the best nights to go out, hospitality people know how to party, that’s kinda why they’re in the game.

The pay is miserable. Any 9-5 human working on a Saturday (let alone Sunday) would demand bonuses, insist on having extra leave and equity share in the business. Being payed by the hour means when there’s work to be done there’s work to be paid for, when things quieten down receiving a text telling you to ‘have it off’ means exactly that. There’s no sympathy pay there either. But your regular customers will always look after you when you look after them. Having a couple hundred tax free notes in the sky rocket makes spending them that much more enjoyable.

It’s never clean enough. Time to lean, time to clean. When you’re being paid to work there’s work to be done; those shelves behind the bar with the entire glassware inventory stacked upon them, yep, they need cleaning; and the glasses, to. Anyone who’s ever lived with someone who knows how to polish will know that their cutlery, crockery and glasses will always be spot and streak free. Always.

The people you work with are fictional. Neil, the 50-year-old waiter who was once an aspiring actor gave up on that and turned to carrying plates... and the bottle; from ten in the morning until he stumbles out and through the quite possibly closed front door. He relives his days on stage in the dining room; he has this aura that surrounds him, each table a new scene, each menu a new script. He lives week to week from pub to pub. And he’s a legend. Javi, the Afghani chef who grew up in Sweden and still has a bullet inside him and shouldn’t be alive (legally or otherwise) will tell you stories with scars to prove that make your life feel like a four-framed comic. He makes the best pizzas you’ll ever taste that not even his mother knows the recipes too. These people will do your head in and tear your soul out but you’ll get to know them better than you know your family and when you meet again, long after you’ve parted ways; you’ll silently thank them for what they taught you.

You cannot hold down a relationship. Because your life revolves around your work, there’s little time for anyone else (of substance). And if you payed attention to the hours (they suck) there’s little time to lead a normally-hour’d life; therefore you have to date the people you work with which is like shitting where you eat. Not even pigs do that. In the busy seasons though, when new staff come and go, you’ll find a summer romance that will definitely be different, you’ll promise each other the world and then review those promises while looking at an atlas of what should have been but never was. Your heart will be broken, your friends will be proud and you’ll move on and be stronger.

Your perception on society will change. The conversations you overhear and are involved in; the topics, the stories and their outcomes – are much the same. You’ll realise that ninety per cent of people are mundane and the ten per cent that are interesting and actually have something worthwhile to offer are more than likely standing next to you. You’ll realise that when you’re in the game, you’re different and if (and when you ever get out) you will not let yourself be like the ninety per cent. You might even find yourself doing what it is you want to do and not what society said.

It’s addictive. Your senses are heightened when moving through a restaurant or behind a bar and if they’re not you’re working too slowly. There’s noise and music, people and pressure, temperature and busyness. Amidst the organised chaos you’ll reach a mental place where you’re aware of everything that’s going on in the room; the 5/4 timed song that’s playing, the Italian chef who is yelling, the four plates that are burning your hands, the forest floor aroma of the vintage Pino Noir that’s just been decanted; and even though you cannot be everywhere at once, you’ll try to be. You’ll take multitasking to another level.

It’s revealing.  Every human needs to know how to serve others. And when you’re serving, you’re vulnerable. And you’re vulnerable because it’s personal. It’s between you and them; you’re at their beck and call, yes sir no sir how would you like that cooked, sir. That arse-hole customer who makes it seem like you have done everything wrong, when you couldn’t have done anything more for them. But when you learn to serve with a genuine smile, you realise it’s not personal at all. That’s what service is about, being humble. And the next time you go out and your friend is being the ass that all the staff will talk about, you’ll smile to yourself because he hasn’t carried a plate in his life for anybody else. He hasn’t revealed himself. 

-Anonymous

Love this chick! And this music video kind of makes me want to Rave...

90's Flashback..

Going through such a 90's flashback stage this week! I have gone from old Brit Spears to the Spice girls to Baby bird, New radicals etc. I really feel its a time that we all look straight past, granted fashion back then was border line manic, but seemingly some stylists are bringing it back in a big way. Their reasoning? um I can't really be sure, It's not necessarily my most favorite genre of fashion. I found it to be a slight mess. In my eyes it was basically people putting anything and everything together to create a collage type jumble, highly eclectic. Some could pull it off (Drew Barrymore, Kate Moss etc) others looked like they had crawled out of their cupboards backwards. BUT the music... it truly is something special. Ok, maybe one can't really call the pop culture of this time "great music" but the bands that were around at the time had such a groovy sound. It's the sort of music that has a slight combination of emotions... we'd almost moved on ever so slightly from the punk vibe (barring Avril Lavigne - skater boy, worst!) and bands were writing music that initiated some sort of emotion from their listeners. I think it was a reformation of the 60's where lyrics were a fundamental part of a song... I think its had quite a staunch influence on our bands of today....

Anyway... Have a look at the fashion below... I 'll leave you to make your own minds up about it.

Reeva's Justice...

So I have reserved my comments on this Oscar case (or should we actually say REEVA'S case) because shamefully I keep changing my mind! As controversial as that sounds, it is the dead honest truth. In the beginning I was 100% convinced that this was a tragic accident! There was no way that one of our leading heroes could ever possess the potential to want to kill another innocent human being. I found myself sad and feeling so incredibly sorry for him with questions like, imagine being HIM right now? Imagine what HE must be going through? Imagine how HIS family are feeling? I won't lie, those were my immediate thoughts and as I tweeted, blogged or professed his innocence, people would ask how could I defend this man? He killed his girlfriend, but I remained convinced that this was an accident. When listening to Roux question the states witnesses, I was even more convinced on Oscars innocence. Roux took these witnesses apart, leaving them in tears and making their evidence seem highly "made up." However, when Oscar took to the stand, everything changed! I have had the live streaming of the case on my work computer all day everyday, and I have not missed a beat of Oscars testimony. On the first day when Nel decided to very controversially show Reeva's wounded head, my heart broke at Oscars response. How could this lawyer show this to this poor man? I had tears streaming down my face as he broke down... The next couple of days was a completely different story..he was nervous, fumbling, and made far too many mistakes. His story was made to seem so unlikely that my mind was changed... how fickle but the honest truth. As a former drama student, I am sorry to say that I believe he is putting on one hell of a show and I truly believe the tears, the puking and the utter turmoil he is portraying is for the loss of his life, not Reevas. For whatever reason, Oscar killed someone, his girlfriend, on valentines day, that is the cold hard fact, and I think for the first time, I've finally realized that its not actually about HIM, its about REEVA and finding justice for her. Along with that, allowing the family to start trying to rebuild and find some sort of peace in their hearts. At the end of the day, she's gone and she was shot, that is no accident...

Interesting article I found today, an open letter from Jani Allan a South African columnist, broadcaster and animal rights advocate. She was accused of being involved romantically with Eugene Terre'Blanche (right wing political leader, you guys know all about him) however she denied these allegations and in turn went through utter turmoil..her letter speaks for itself...

"Dear Oscar

Many years ago an Afrikaans man fell in love with me. It was a complicated situation. I was a journalist and he was a story.

Things became as messy as a cat’s sandbox. When he drove into the gates of the monument at Paardekraal he was taken to court. I was called as a witness. The man whom I thought was a leader and an inspiration to his people took to calling me obsessively and crying noisily on my answerphone.

Once he drove to my apartment in Sandown in the middle of the night. When I refused to let him in he fell into a drunken stupor outside the door. Another time, he and his wife turned up to beg me to testify favourably and to ‘stop the press’ from writing about us. His young daughter was with them. I implored his wife to make him realize that it was his court case and that he should desist from hounding me. At this, he theatrically fell on his knees and started bawling.

When his Darth Vader mask was removed I saw an unformed man, someone who had no innate integrity, no spirituality and one who certainly had not developed as an individual. What I saw was pitiful and strange and incongruent with whom he purported to be.

His name was Eugene Terre’blanche.

Of course the circumstances were dramatically different from yours, Oscar …He was only to murder a man long after I left the country. But since the best predictor of future behavior is past behavior, I am sure he shed crocodile tears during his court case.

Terre’blanche was cut from the same cloth as you, Oscar. He was given to boasting, vain in all things, narcissistic in the extreme and flying into terrible rages when things didn’t go his way. I suspect this description fits you.

When I first became aware of your fierce competitiveness in the sporting arena, I was admiring of your steely determination. Then there were the eruptions of temper and your fury when you thought you weren’t fairly treated. I realized long ago that you might have been a fast runner, but you never have been sportsmanlike in your behavior. Not on the track or off it.

It is unnecessary to repeat all the stories about guns, cocaine, fast cars and pretty girls. When there is achievement of any kind, people cluster around such a man. But your success was purely physical. You came along, the one in your generation that inspired the imagination for the journey each of us takes.

People want so badly to be reminded of idealism, of triumph against all odds. They love a romance based on selflessness not selfishness. They want the hero to have heart and humanity. They want him to possess psychological and physiological excellence. But the life you led was without spirit. It was a wasteland filled with expensive toys and recidivist acts. The sound of your delighted cackles as you shot at a watermelon – a zombie-stopper – I believe you called it, was so disparate from your whiny-girly mimsy court voice that it’s difficult not to burst out laughing while listening to you.

Oscar, you bought the gun. You chose the bullet that would cause maximum damage.

I have it from a reliable source that you are taking acting lessons for your days in court. Your coach has an impossible task.

Oscar, I look at you mewling and puking in the witness stand. You truly represent everything that the West loathes about white South Africans who live extravagant lives in their expensive laagers. Your constant and preposterously ridiculous statement that you thought it wasn’t Reeva trapped in the bathroom, but an intruder, opens yet another can of haricots. The implication of this is that it would have been more acceptable to shoot an intruder the way you did. Execution from behind a closed door.

Oscar, you are the latest in a long line of faux heroes. Like so many who preceded you, you have betrayed your people and disappointed your fans."

-source: www.2oceansvibe.com

Let it go,

In spirit of my last post, I just want to share the Original Soundtrack piece of Frozen...it did win an Oscar and despite being sung by Demi Lovato, I am obsessed...