I am BROKE, and I have a degree to prove it.
Today is my 20th day of unemployment. HURRAY to me. For the past 4 years I worked for my own money, spend my own money and owned my own money; it is slowly and surely running out. Savings are getting less as I try and keep head above water. I quit therefore I am broke. I quit the job I prayed for, I quit the job someone else didn't get the chance to have. I quit and moved back home, so in some sense I am a quitter. Life happened while I thought I was strong enough to cope with it. Life handed me life, and I tried but discovered that one should never do something you ain't passionate about; you have to love what you do and do what you love.
I started out as a department assistant, the money was lousy but the benefits were pretty cool if you were an art student. I then went on to being an art teacher, I got so attached to the kids, I thought I would never want to do anything else. I don't want to do anything else. I want to teach and I want to do Art, I just don't know about doing both at the same time. Knowing somehow everyday you get to change views and mindsets, maybe inspire someone, is worth getting out of bed for. Others make work sound so easy, get up get things done and get back home. It's different when you an art teacher at a small private school, the kids become your life. The hours and dedication that goes into the work, makes one satisfied. I resigned from being an art teacher to start what I thought would be a new phase of my life. I got the job in Swakopmund, at an environmental education organization. Excited was I, to discover I had to travel by gravel road the desert and the south of Namibia, to make things better for the less fortunate. There is fun in telling the world how cool your job is, that is until you get a blackout leading to a nervous stroke and your dad loses his hand, and nothing seems right anymore. Work did not provide medical aid, given I had to travel long distances with a $50/ day allowance and I had to sleep out in nature. Pretty cool to the nomads and the free spirits. No amount of money can be substituted for family and your health. And 3 weeks in the bush/desert, 2 blackouts later and a father with 1 less hand, I quit.
Today is my 20th day of unemployment. I am no longer sane. I spent my time doing errands for the family, I am the driver, the nanny, the chef, the personal shopper, you name it, that is what I am. Most days, the hours drag by, and I spend my time reading and watching series. Other days are more exciting and I do absolutely nothing. I am losing marbles up there and I might be going mad. In all this madness, I found my way back to art and I am falling in love again. Art and I have a special relationship, we drift apart but never truly leave each other. So there is good to bad somehow.
To add to all my madness, I am broke and have a degree to prove it. I have been studying for the past 6 years and this year is my 7th. Lets just say I enjoy being educated. How I am going to pay for my studies, I wish I knew. But from 17:15- 21:30, twice a week, you will find me at Polytech, trying to forget I am broke.
Every time my phone rings or I check my e-mails I hope it is some form of news from the +/- 20 job applications. Just some hope would do right about now as I live of faith alone. By the time I get the call that I got the job, it might be too late, and I might have lost all sanity. But, in the meantime I shall make beautiful art in all forms and justify my unemployment to experience and education.
Thursday, February 20, 2014
Sunday, February 16, 2014
Warsan Shire
I thank the almighty for your talent, you speak to me as if from me. Your words are my words. Don't ever stop writing and reciting...
Warsan Shire
“the year of letting go, of understanding loss. grace. of the word ‘no’ and also being able to say ‘you are not kind’. the year of humanity/humility. when the whole world couldn’t get out of bed. everyone i’ve met this year, says the same thing ‘you are so easy to be around, how do you do that?’. the year I broke open and dug out all the rot with own hands. the year I learnt small talk. and how to smile at strangers. the year I understood that I am my best when I reach out and ask ‘do you want to be my friend?’. the year of sugar, everywhere. softness. sweetness. honey honey. the year of being alone, and learning how much I like it. the year of hugging people I don’t know, because I want to know them. the year I made peace and love, right here.”
― Warsan Shire
I thank the almighty for your talent, you speak to me as if from me. Your words are my words. Don't ever stop writing and reciting...
“the year of letting go, of understanding loss. grace. of the word ‘no’ and also being able to say ‘you are not kind’. the year of humanity/humility. when the whole world couldn’t get out of bed. everyone i’ve met this year, says the same thing ‘you are so easy to be around, how do you do that?’. the year I broke open and dug out all the rot with own hands. the year I learnt small talk. and how to smile at strangers. the year I understood that I am my best when I reach out and ask ‘do you want to be my friend?’. the year of sugar, everywhere. softness. sweetness. honey honey. the year of being alone, and learning how much I like it. the year of hugging people I don’t know, because I want to know them. the year I made peace and love, right here.”
― Warsan Shire
Tuesday, February 11, 2014
POETRY WOMEN...
Alex Elle, Warsan Shire and Nayyirah Waheed are women that inspire me to want to write and read poetry, every single day. Somewhere along my 6 years and 2 months of studies, I was told, poetry is the highest and purest form of ART and I cannot deny it, for I love art and language as if I am Art. So, I will take the next few days to obsess over these poets words.
“why do we get so awkward around deep emotion. why are we embarrassed and resistant. what would happen if we softened into it, instead of criticized it. what would happen if we felt everything we felt, without an urge to suppress the emotions of ourselves or others. what if we believed in waves, instead of fear. what if we enjoyed being vulnerable. i think we would become a compassion that could change the world. what does it hurt to try. the next time you want to shrink, try love, to go loose, i will be trying too.” — nayyirah waheed
Alex Elle, Warsan Shire and Nayyirah Waheed are women that inspire me to want to write and read poetry, every single day. Somewhere along my 6 years and 2 months of studies, I was told, poetry is the highest and purest form of ART and I cannot deny it, for I love art and language as if I am Art. So, I will take the next few days to obsess over these poets words.
“why do we get so awkward around deep emotion. why are we embarrassed and resistant. what would happen if we softened into it, instead of criticized it. what would happen if we felt everything we felt, without an urge to suppress the emotions of ourselves or others. what if we believed in waves, instead of fear. what if we enjoyed being vulnerable. i think we would become a compassion that could change the world. what does it hurt to try. the next time you want to shrink, try love, to go loose, i will be trying too.” — nayyirah waheed
Wednesday, December 25, 2013
i stared death in it's face.
31 days ago, I stared death in it's face. I did not pass it by, or hear it whisper, I looked at it, I stared and it hit me...Death ain't quiet no matter how peacefully it comes to get you. Death does this thing, where it hits us all, it does not ask how you lived nor does it care, it just claims. And it is on the 25th of November 2013 I realised death does not care if you rich or poor, black or white, a freak or a bookworm, DEATH IS FOR US ALL. It does not discriminate, it takes and does not give back.
I walked into the hospital room and saw you, but this time around you weren't you. You were quiet, cold and looked different. It was in the air, but the machines fooled us and the nurses deceived us, we believed you were still around. What I saw that day keeps flashing before me, the blue on the soles of your feet, the swelling, the stillness, that smell, I don't think that was really you. I made a call with tears running down my face, I knew it. I knew you left.
I stared death in it's face and I pray no one ever has to leave that way. It was cruel and unkind. Sad.
May your soul Rest in Eternal Peace...Eleanor Uricke Diergaardt
31 days ago, I stared death in it's face. I did not pass it by, or hear it whisper, I looked at it, I stared and it hit me...Death ain't quiet no matter how peacefully it comes to get you. Death does this thing, where it hits us all, it does not ask how you lived nor does it care, it just claims. And it is on the 25th of November 2013 I realised death does not care if you rich or poor, black or white, a freak or a bookworm, DEATH IS FOR US ALL. It does not discriminate, it takes and does not give back.
I walked into the hospital room and saw you, but this time around you weren't you. You were quiet, cold and looked different. It was in the air, but the machines fooled us and the nurses deceived us, we believed you were still around. What I saw that day keeps flashing before me, the blue on the soles of your feet, the swelling, the stillness, that smell, I don't think that was really you. I made a call with tears running down my face, I knew it. I knew you left.
I stared death in it's face and I pray no one ever has to leave that way. It was cruel and unkind. Sad.
May your soul Rest in Eternal Peace...Eleanor Uricke Diergaardt
Thursday, November 14, 2013
it is so obvious how you are summer and I am winter...
your ebony coating touching my ivory shell, your playful nature and my deep passion, your height towering over me, as I try and balance on my tippie toes just to reach you.
There is nothing wrong with summer, oh NO!, the birds chirping, the fresh hot air, the late nights and early mornings, the cool smoothers and the light drizzles, the shorts and parties, the wild flowers and the bright colours. But, then winter comes and steals summers shine, the cold is deep and the nights are long. The air is heated with a certain chill and lovers love, yes I am that winter. That silent cry to be loved and you are those wings that need a home. I don't get how summers can live without winters, without that warm embrace, that warm chocolate running smoothly down your throat, the heat creeping through the blankets...
There is so much that you are that I will never be.
There is so much that brings us together and even more that keeps us apart.
There is so much to say but words always go unspoken.
see you are summer and I am a forever winter...
your ebony coating touching my ivory shell, your playful nature and my deep passion, your height towering over me, as I try and balance on my tippie toes just to reach you.
There is nothing wrong with summer, oh NO!, the birds chirping, the fresh hot air, the late nights and early mornings, the cool smoothers and the light drizzles, the shorts and parties, the wild flowers and the bright colours. But, then winter comes and steals summers shine, the cold is deep and the nights are long. The air is heated with a certain chill and lovers love, yes I am that winter. That silent cry to be loved and you are those wings that need a home. I don't get how summers can live without winters, without that warm embrace, that warm chocolate running smoothly down your throat, the heat creeping through the blankets...
There is so much that you are that I will never be.
There is so much that brings us together and even more that keeps us apart.
There is so much to say but words always go unspoken.
see you are summer and I am a forever winter...
Thursday, October 17, 2013
I may have been an ostranenie but you have taught me about patience and words. About fun and seizing moments together, because all we will have left are memories apart. Thank you for your time and dedication to ART, there are true artist among all of you. Go on and live, let art reside in you even long after I may have left you.
xoxo
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