This, I can somewhat live with. What I can’t stand is supposedly smart people supporting this.

Now, you may already know I love Muse. In fact, my family will assert I am obsessed. I love the music, the genius behind it and I would go so far as to say I may actually be in love with the man who thinks, feels and writes the lyrics. I am not talking about the Matt Bellamy who is dating Kate Hudson (fur-wearing bitch… I can’t understand how anyone can be with someone who is fine with skinning another creature just for vanity but that’s another kettle of fish.) I am talking about the Matt Bellamy who sings passionately about love, hate and changing the world.

I have no idea what the band is like – especially Bellamy – as people. I reckon I might just be put off the music if I got to know them… who knows. But I cannot stand the fact that the band is proving to be increasingly pathetic; evident in their pandering to Stephanie Meyer’s work of bullshit which is Twilight.

I hate everything the Twilight series stands for.

Firstly, and not the most importantly, it is badly written. And no, this is not a matter of opinion. Anyone can write a story. Not everyone can write a novel. A novel is supposed to show, and not tell. A novel is supposed to take language and transform mere words into a work of art, even if the story is kak, or the story is sad, horrible, or whatever. I hated Disgrace. But it was bloody well written. That goes for many books I have read. Twilight is just badly written. Meyer never says ‘said’; instead she used the words ‘she breathed the words’. Grammar, Meyer, Grammar! Oh and we get it, Edward Cullen has a ‘perfectly toned body’. We got it after the first time you said it. And for fucks sake, stop using ‘shift-F7′!

It single-handedly takes women’s’ lib back 50 years or so. Bella is flatter than paper, she is only validated by a man. Bella Swan, which means ‘beautiful swan’, is a two-dimensional character with no substance whatsoever. She is clumsy, silly, has no sense of reality and gets herself into awkward situations, from all of which, Edward has to save her. She cannot protect herself, is incapable of standing up for herself or doing anything for herself, for that matter. Her existence revolves around Edward and Jacob. She isn’t affected by the fact she is almost raped, which I have been and it’s a fucking traumatic experience. Bella is not a real character.

Twilight is the glorification of suicide, abuse, stalking, rape, bestiality, paedophilia and child grooming. Twilight makes it okay to be emo, whiney and self-absorbed. No wonder kids go to school with bandages around their wrists, seeking attention. The emo trend is a huge issue, what with kids constantly being put on ADD or Bipolar medication. Meyer, are you saying that this is okay? Are you saying that this is what the next generations should aspire to be? I know of a girl who tried to commit suicide at 13 because she ‘will never find a man like Edward’. Is this what you intended?

Aside from the sparkly vampires being turned from dark and amazing lore to pussy whiney bitches, the entire culture of vampirism is torn to shreds in the books and films. Their fatal flaw is that they die in sunlight. It’s part of the curse of being a vampire. The flaw in the awesome power of immortality and owning the night. It is a mockery of literature.

Love in terms of Twilight is represented as being based on attraction alone. Bella and Edward do not fall in love for each others’ personalities, because neither of them have any personality. Their love is based on the fact that Bella smells good and Edward is hot. That is it. Nothing substantial, no real beliefs or interests. Their only aspiration is to fuck.

Now, all that being said, and you, reading my blog and knowing my politics, will probably agree that we all know that Twilight is not worth the paper it’s printed on. We should have saved the trees rather than released that book. However, as much as teeny-boppers toting t-shirts with Edward Cullen and ‘Team Edward’ plastered onto their bedroom doors can accept this poppycock, I don’t understand how musicians can pander to this by allowing their music to be used in the films.

By allowing this, the artist is inadvertently upholding and agreeing with all that the films stand for and represent. In the case of Muse, this is highly disappointing, not just because ‘Neutron Star Collision’ is a pathetic excuse for a song whereas songs like ‘Space Dementia’ ‘Showbiz’, ‘Butterflies and Hurricanes’ and ‘Map of the Problematique’ are works of genius.

It’s disappointing because I’d expect some level of intelligence from the band that made all that great music. I would expect that the band would be discerning and see Twilight for what it is. It doesn’t matter that Stephanie Meyer thanked Muse in her acknowledgements? I am writing a novel and I did too. If she really understood the meaning of Muse songs, she wouldn’t have written such a pussy book.

Bad, bad Muse. You guys preach about justice, yet you are proving yourselves to be hypocrites by buying into the trash that is Twilight. If you’re doing it for the money, shame on you. My Chemical Romance, who don’t hold a candle to your talent, can say “fuck you” to Meyer. Why don’t you grow some balls and take a real stand; practice what you preach.

I, your biggest fan in South Africa, am so disappointed. Not because of the usual ‘ah they’ve become commercial’ thing or becoming bad musicians. It’s because you have lost your credibility as being intelligent, discerning and proactive artists.

I am sorry I have been absent of late. Writing full-time means that I go home and sit in front of the telly every night instead of writing more, which is what I should be doing. Seeing as though this year has been incredible, horrible and amazing at the same time, I am going to start afresh.

Here’s my bucket list, which I wrote up not too long ago.

Enjoy!

N

1. Hug a polar bear

2. Kiss a whale

3. Touch the hood of a Spectacled Cobra

4. See Muse live and meet them (done)

5. Jump off a boat into the Indian Ocean

6. Write for National Geographic

7. Have an article published in Q, NME or Rolling Stone

8. Photograph Desmond Tutu

9. Punch a whaler or seal killer so hard his penis falls off

10. Meet Nelson Mandela (done)

11. Meet Sir David Attenborough

12. Become friends with a rock star (done, and yes, Zebra and Giraffe do count as rock stars)

13. Swim with dolphins

14. Shake an octopus’ arm

15. Hug a chimpanzee

16. Go to every place Planet Earth was shot

17. Kiss an Anaconda

18. Come face-to-face with a Black Mamba and have no fear

19. Climb Table Mountain (I can’t do Kilimanjaro because of my ankles and I have to climb something, so why not the coolest mountain at home?)

20. Raft the Zambezi

21. Bungee off Bloukrans (will probably never happen, I like my spine)

22. Skydive

23. Abseil (done)

24. Rapp jump (done)

25. Swing across Oribi Gorge (done)

26. Touch a White Shark or take a photo of one breaching

27. Swim with a Whale Shark

28. Write a song

29. Go for a ride in a helicopter (done)

30. Ride a Harley Davidson (done)

31. Hang glide

32. Go to the Antarctic and hug an emperor penguin

33. See the Northern Lights

34. Photograph a Bengal Tiger (I would rather hug an Anaconda than go near a Tiger)

35. See a sloth fall off his tree

36. Be in a play at West End

37. Meet Bear Grylls (and then have his children)

38. Blow up parliament (ok not really)

39. Watch a live World Cup match (DONE!)

40. Watch a Manchester United match and shout “bloody yobbo” to Rooney

41. Stand on a soap box with a megaphone and shout “the end is nigh!”

42. See the Springboks beat New Zealand by a frikkin HUGE margin…in New Zealand

43. See Bafana win a match

44. Live to see the Proteas have a good captain

45. Stop Big Ben

46. Become a vegan (will probably never happen)

47. Hot air balloon over the Serengeti

48. See the Okavango Delta in full bloom

49. Kiss an elephant

50. Own a farm where I can take care of abandoned puppies and write full-time

51. Walk the entire Great Wall of China

52. Scuba dive the Great Barrier Reef

53. Go down to the Mariana Trench in a pod of some sort

54. Punch a Sharks Flasher Girl

55. Trip Zakumi and then steal his suit

56. Make a bloody good chocolate soufflé

57. Make ice cream from scratch

58. Trampoline bungee (done)

59. Jump into a yellow taxi cab and shout to the driver, “follow that car!”

60. Slide down the staircase at the Hilton Hotel

61. Go in a barge down the Amazon and the Nile

62. Count a Nile crocodile’s teeth

63. Be in a music video

64. Climb a Californian Redwood

65. Hold a real human skull and say “Alas, poor Yorrick. I knew him, Horatio.”

66. Live in Kenya for a while

67. Own a blue fridge

68. Smack Jamie Oliver and teach him how to pronounce Hindi words

69. Chop a bamboo roll-ish thingimajig with a katana

70. Meet Sir Terry Pratchett

71. Play the 17th hole at Sawgrass

72. Drive a Bugati

73. Be the star in Top Gear’s reasonably priced car

74. Survive the Zombie Apocalypse

75. Take a long exposure photo of the star trails as the earth moves

76. Do my Reiki masters course in India

77. Write a book which is not a dissertation

78. Sell a copy of said book

79. Peel an apple in one long strip

80. Dance to Dola Re on a really awesome stage

81. Photograph the Dalai Lama

82. Ride a Camel

83. Paint something that makes someone go “wow” (done Thanks Tree!)

84. Act in a really, really bad film which I can laugh at when I am old

85. Perform with Libby Allen

86. Steal the Pope’s hat

87. Make a short animation film

88. Shoot the photos for a band’s album sleeve

89. See Radiohead, Foo Fighters, Pearl Jam and Red Hot Chili Peppers live

90. See Muse perform at Wembley

91. Show off my four degrees to my class one teacher who said I will never succeed at anything in life

92. Play The Smashing Pumpkin’s Melon Collie and the Infinite Sadness on the piano

93. Buy a grand piano, preferably a Steinway, and the first thing I play on it will be Chopsticks

94. Teach a man to fish

95. Teach at Ansuya Naguran’s arts school

96. Teach

97. Eat something I don’t really know about in Vietnam

98. Catch a drum stick at a concert

99. Play in the fountain outside the Bellagio

100. Make a thing

Being a woman is the only constant there. But what does that mean?

Sex is fixed. Yes, you have a penis or a vagina. But gender and sexuality are fluid concepts. They were both created by people, just like language and understanding were created so many thousand years ago.

Gender is a historically negotiated state of being. You are male, you are female and you are defined by this first, before any sort of definition is plastered on you.

It is drilled into the brain from a young age that gender is fixed and defined by a set of attributes. Whether you like blue or pink, play with cars or dolls, do manual labour or are a housekeeper are attributes which society imposes.

Historically negotiated states of being have to constantly be re-evaluated and accepted or discarded in accordance with how the world changes.

Who is to say that a woman cannot be a shipyard worker or a man cannot be a nurse?

But it goes far deeper than gender roles. How we define ourselves to ourselves and others is one of the things that make us who we are – and beyond being of a certain profession, the definition of ourselves which lies within is far more important. It’s the legacy we imprint on our world and what we leave behind when we’re gone.

Gender roles and heteronormativity have prevented countless people from being who they really are and this is debilitating, not just to the individuals themselves but to society. People who are happy with their state of being are far more productive.

How we relate to ourselves is so important. It sets the tone for our lives.

I know so many men who are in ‘manly’ jobs like Engineering because they were too scared to do Drama in university for fear of being labelled a ‘fag’. I know women who have taken up Law instead of Construction because Construction is not a feminine thing to do.

At the end of the day, it’s not your parents or friends who are living your life. It’s you. And if you are unhappy, do what the hell you want to do because only you can choose who you want to be.

What we need to start doing is, from a young age, break gender stereotypes. Stop with the pink and blue blankets. Stop with the baby dolls and guns. Enough with the dresses and pants. Be as gender neutral with your kids as you possibly can be. I assure you, they will turn out to be better people for it.

As for me – I was one of those kids who climbed trees, played cricket and loved pink. I dress in pretty skirts and listen to System of a Down. I love cooking and love cars. I drink pink drinks while playing guitar hero. Hence, I am Nikita Ramkissoon. An individual. Not just another woman.

I am South African. I dress in the universal jeans, t-shirt and sneakers. I speak English (mainly) tossed in with whatever little Afrikaans Hindi and isiZulu I know. I eat biltong and watch rugby. I think I have more love for The Sharks than I do for some people.

But what it means to be South African goes beyond being able to out-drink American exchange students at Absa Stadium.

I think if the world had to be turned into a folder on a PC, South Africa would be the ‘Miscellaneous’ folder. It’s a mix of everything and then some.

We have a rich history. Apartheid was part of this and as much as we can complain, whine and bitch about it, it now can be seen as a positive and having contributed to the fullness of our heritage. We have so much to speak of in terms of struggle and determination. We also have the most public holidays in the world, all of which are markers of our remarkable story.

We also have the spirit of reconciliation that came with the fall of apartheid. Even though the atrocities of apartheid were told, stories of resilience, toil and braveness were also told during the Truth and Reconciliation Commission. I can safely say that our history is richer than a lot of countries who can boast about being first world.

We still have racism but that’s not a group thing anymore. It’s an individual choice now and you can choose to leave the country if you want to – an opportunity that was not afforded to many people previously.

The people are the source of much of South Africa’s richness. Aside from the different races, Saffas are diverse in many other ways. In our jobs and everyday lives, our approach to life is different. We have societies entrenched in white picket fence mentality like in Vereeniging but we have over-the-garden-fence conversations in places like Chatsworth.

Aesthetically, the Land is incredibly diverse and amazing. We have beautiful beaches, vast open lands with animals that exist elsewhere only in story books. Rivers such as the Vaal, Limpopo, Tugela and Orange Rivers, mountains, including the majestic Table Mountain and the Drakensburg range.

The breathtaking Mpumalanga where you will find God’s Window, the Western Cape where you’ll find the highest bungee site in the world and KZN where you can chill on the beach all day and party all night. Johannesburg boasts the most awesome nightlife imaginable. We are also on the edge of Africa where the Atlantic and Pacific oceans meet. Saffas roadtrip a lot and for good reason. With such a vast and vibrant landscape, every trip is an adventure.

South Africa is an economically poor nation and this is something we are working on. Culturally, we are one of the richest nations in the world.

I love this country we live in. I am forever grateful to my great-great-great grandfathers and -mothers who got onto that ship which brought our family down to this Land. If not, I wouldn’t have existed, nor would South Africa be the diverse place it is.

Arno Carstens said it perfectly in his song Another Universe.

we’re invisible alive
we’re the whispers in the scream
we’re not living in the west
and we’re not coming from the east…

We are South African. We are diverse. We are proud and we are making history.

I have studied at the Universities of KwaZulu-Natal and the Witwatersrand and both have had their fair share of student protests.

This year at Wits, the protest which was led by the ANC Youth League and the South African Students’ Communist Organisation (SASCO), was fairy peaceful but still disruptive.

It made me think about protests and whether they actually achieve what the people protesting want to achieve. It definitely gets media attention but do the powers that be actually listen?

Marches and peaceful protests are meant to draw attention to the cause. I don’t think university admin actually listens to the students when they protest, though and this is a huge problem. They will go ahead and do what they will because they have the power to. Students will always come back. The people do not have the capacity to unhinge a machine that has been running for longer than they have been alive.

Another part of the problem in a university is that students don’t fully understand the reasons behind fee increases and they start a protest when, in this case, the fee increase would enable the university to provide students with better resources – a battle which students are constantly fighting the university about.

I think that turning violent undermines the cause. But what else can be done, really? When frustrations are running high and admin doesn’t listen, human nature takes over. In the mess of greed, misinformation and war-mongering, out comes the angry mob.

We don’t achieve anything by fighting. Neither do we achieve anything by standing by and doing nothing. This is the conundrum we face. So, what do we do? I pose this question to you.

We have a plethora of talent in our beautiful country. Talent is not confined to the USA or Britain. Bands like Cassette, The Parlotones, Fokofpolisiekar, Zebra & Giraffe and even the obscure ones like Guy Buttery and Dan Patlanksy are worthy of international stages.

But audiences are willing to pay R600 a ticket to see bands like Bullet for My Valentine (who didn’t care enough about the fans to rock up) and Good Charlotte (who thought they were in Durban when they were in Cape Town). But they aren’t keen to pay R30 to see bands from our own backyard.

I think it’s the fault of our radio stations. Too many play claptrap from the States and ignore our bands and artists who are working hard, just about covering their overheads with each gig. Music stations promote music which fills my four-year-old niece’s head with: “Don’t you wish your girlfriend was hot like me?” instead of music out of Africa which tells our stories.

Bands have to go overseas to make it big. Saron Gas had to move to the States and change their name to Seether to get recognised. MTV plays more of their music than Highveld does.

Radio stations overseas punt music from their own hoods. Music stations are not like newspapers. They don’t have to be impartial. They are here to entertain and to promote music. Whatever music they promote becomes the norm.

Why do our local stations not punt local music? I understand that what people are used to hearing is the shimmy-shaking drivel from the boulevards of Hollywood, but if our local stations played our music, people would buy it because it’s become popular.

Okay, okay, perhaps it’s not as bad as I’m portraying it.. The regulation for local content used to stipulate 12% South African music on national stations. Although it has been pushed up to 25%, this is still not good enough. Also, it seems to me the music is generally played during off-peak hours.

There is a problem, though, caused by the fragility of the music scene here. Music journos can’t that easily diss the bad bands and the endless embarrassment of sokkie treffers. If the music scene was strengthened by support from radio stations and consumers, we’d have the freedom to choose which South African bands to promote and which to castrate.

So, radio stations, stop hating on our local musos. We got talent, yo.

www.rockoutradio.co.za – check this baby out. This could be the answer to our prayers.

I know them personally and as much as I won’t go so far as to say that they are friends, they are slowly becoming close acquaintances. I have as much respect for them as people as I do for them as musicians.

Let’s start with the original Z&G – Greg Carlin. He’s a musical genius. To have conceptualised, played the instruments on and managed to pull off Collected Memories pretty much all by himself is a feat to be celebrated.

Greg Carlin, the genius behind Z&G

Aside from the intensity of his lyrics and the larger-than-life music, Greg is a cool person. He’s also quite good looking which means that whenever he’s setting up, the bored crowd has something to drool at. I get a kick out of listening to silly girls behind me saying “take off your shirt, Greg!”, to which he just flashes an awkward smile. I think he’s got a beautiful smile. Mainly because it’s so genuine.

Alan Shenton, guitarist and the one girls swoon over because he’s a guitarist is manic and unstoppable on stage. In person, he’s sharp and his don’t-give-a-fuck attitude may rub people the wrong way. But he’s a gentle soul with a heart of gold. His skills on the guitar need not be mentioned – it speaks for itself. This man is a legend.

Keyboardist Rob Davidson is probably the funniest one of them all. His sharp wit takes a bit of getting used to but he’s a mellow party animal. Only god knows how he keeps a straight face for his day job as a lecturer. He rocks out almost as much as Alan does on stage and his energy, even when he’s tired, is something that sometimes carries the band who has been touring so much.

Bassist, backup vocalist and keyboardist Andrew Maskell is the strong, silent type. His stern face is sometimes off-putting as he hardly smiles. But he’s a gentle giant. Well, next to me, anyone is a giant. Andrew is a tough one to pin down.

Live at Joburb Burning

Darren Leader, drummer, is the baba of the band. He’s endearing, warm and welcoming. His smile can drive out the foulest mood and replace it with nothing less than a smile back or even a laugh. Behind the drums, he’s a daemon. He drums without a care in the world and his constant banter with Alan shows the closeness among the band members. On stage, he is in his element. Off stage, he’s probably the sweetest person I have ever met.

Musically, this is where it gets very interesting. The lyrics are outpourings of Greg’s inner workings. They’re deep, intense, sometimes chilling and sometimes awe-inspiring. My pick for lyrics is Fight! Fight! Fight!, and the line I love from here is “think I might try to kill all the killers and maybe the violence will die”.

When I listen to the music, I find it hard to believe that Greg came up with everything by himself. And when I hear the new song, Fixation Girl, I find it even more amazing that the rest of the band have slotted in so perfectly and seamlessly created the same kind of sound with different influences.

Leaving again and Pariahs have awesome guitar riffs that just stick in my head. The one from Leaving Again, tugs at the heartstrings. The rough opening bars of Oxymoron remind me a bit of Muse and so does the drumming, but only when it’s played live, which I will get to in a minute. The keys at the beginning of Fight! Fight! Fight! make for a song instantly recognisable and set the tone for a unique song dripping with richness.

The Knife has been overplayed and this is the only reason I skip it when it plays on my iPod. Arm Yourself is getting to the same level of over-played-ness but it’s a great song which I haven’t tired of yet. The reason they are so popular, though is clear – they’re accessible and so much fun.

Okay, Oxymoron. I love this song live. I don’t like it on the album. Maybe it’s because the drumming is so thin on the album and it’s so rich and full live. Lyrically, it’s probably one of my favourites. And man, does Darren drum like a beast on this song!

Long Way Down brings a lump to my throat every time I hear it. At Urban Electric, I actually teared. Live, it lacks the sweet harmony of Cherilyn Macneil’s silken voice but it’s moving and electrifying. I can’t describe my love for this song. It makes me want to hug Greg for writing it.

The richness of the music comes in when you listen to the set closely or listen to the album from beginning to end. Each song is carefully crafted and pulled off perfectly. The album sounds vastly different to their live performances for good reason and this is one of the reasons I go to see them live so often. It’s not that the album is inadequate; it’s that the full band makes the music richer and gives it more energy and passion. Their stage presence was lacking at first but it’s gotten so much better since the first time I saw them live at the Kwasuka Theatre in Durban. Their set is also so much fun, you can forget the music and lyrics and just rock out.

Alan just rocks out

Not many people agree with me on this band. Some say their songs all sound the same and they’re not cool. To each his own. I think they’re right up there with the Nudies and The Parlotones. If not better.

When you walk in, the bouncers immediately check you out to see whether you’re 1. dressed appropriately (which is fine) and 2. the right ‘type’ of person to be seen at the club.

I think the only reason I got in was because I was with two hot women. I was profiled from the time I stepped in – being the fat girl with flea market clothing.

It’s expensive, it’s plush and it reeks of money. Ed Hardy fragrances adorn the advertising cabinets and the smell of Armani, Gucci, Louis Vitton and even one-off pieces by Stella McCartney clothing floats around like a perfume you’d dare not touch.

Manhattan is all about the look, but I have to hand it to them for a setup nicely done. Its open plan and differing bars make for an entertaining evening without having to look for your friends in nooks and crannies. Unless, of course, they’re getting it on, in which case, they will be in a bathroom.

To the right is the cigar bar, which I made a beeline for before the girls dragged me away. All I wanted was a Romeo Y Julieta and a glass of good whiskey. (Is it whisky or whiskey? I always get confused about this!)

The main bar is central and is fancy-schmansy. It’s circular and great for spotting a potential hook-up on either side. In fact, the entire club is like this.

The dancefloor is a bit silly. It is semi sunken and has stairs leading down to it – I saw about ten women lose their balance and fall very ungracefully into the arms of men wanting any excuse to talk to them.

The ladies bar is cool but even I, with DD breasts could not get served. Fat girl syndrome hit very quickly.  The shooter bar is awesome. It’s got a spin-the-wheel system going and you pay a flat rate for shooters, spin the wheel and whatever shooter name it lands on, you drink that one. It’s awesome to see a prissy little daddy’s girl down something she hates. Or better still, can’t handle.

The coolest part of the club is the balcony. Although this is where the creepy single guys sit to check out the girls on the dancefloor, it’s not as loud as the rest of the club, it’s well chilled and the panoramic view of people making asses of themselves is great.

The music is nothing short of shit. Well, for the most part. I think I must have shaken my head in disgust for the tenth song in a row before they got on to Justin Timberlake. I eventually gave in after the twentieth song which sounded exactly like the last one before my Indian heritage kicked in and I decided to have a bit of a shimmy shake on the dancefloor. I must hand it to the deejay for playing Bassment Jaxx’s Where’s Your Head At, though, to which I danced and made a complete tool of myself.

So, the women – they all look the same. They wear name brands, high heels (totally pointless) and have freshly GHD-d hair strategically styled to flick into guy’s faces. Most of them wear dresses short enough to be blouses. In fact, I think most of them were blouses. Little do the women know they look skeazy and like they’ve forgotten their pants. Quote of the day from the ladies bathroom:

Random One: Look! I love Africa. I have a zebra on my shirt!

Random Two: Uh, that’s a leopard.

It was actually a lion.

In close second came this one.

Random Three: I couldn’t find my pink hairband so I had to change my entire outfit from pink to green.

The guys all look like they’ve stepped out of the Harvard interview queue. But they look too dim to have gotten there in the first place. Bootleg jeans or formal pants, collared shirts and Pringle jerseys were to be spotted all around. Gel in hair and drink in hand, the men swarm the bars, the dancefloor and the balcony looking for an easy hook-up. I doubt many of them could string more words together than “hey…wanna dance?” Okay, I am being mean. Some of them did appear quite decent. I even saw a few friends there among the guys. But by and large, this is jock country.

I did spot one potential sitting on the opposite end of the area surrounding the dancefloor. He was geeky-looking and had a Led Zeppelin shirt underneath his collared one. He smiled awkwardly at me and I smiled back thinking “hmmm…maybe.”

This was quickly dismissed from my mind when he started singing along to Britney.

Less R150 in my wallet, I left tired and about as bored as I had been five hours before. This is undoubtedly an experience I am not likely to repeat.

The place would be cool if it had some System of a Down playing!

When I was a kid, I used to wonder why people cry. It seemed so silly because the world is such a beautiful place.
I remember sitting in a corner of the family house in Merebank, watching my grandfather being carried away in a coffin and my mother curled up on the couch sobbing into her sari pleats. I remember my cousin weeping as she made tea for my mother, telling her of her divorce and I distinctly remember the first day I ever saw my dad cry.
Then I told my parents about being raped. And I think I truly cried for the first time.
I’m not talking about the kind of tears that you cry when you scrape your knee while climbing a tree. This was real you-want-to-wrench-those-tear-ducts-out crying. Not because I had to cry but because it felt like my entire being was being torn apart. Especially at the sight of my dad’s sorrow.
And then I started thinking about hurt and why we hurt. I know what happens when we hurt. With me, it’s a wall of water crashing down on me and sucking me down a giant bathtub. My lungs can’t handle it. I can’t get words out. My body feels battered. I can’t function.
But why do we hurt? I can only hypothesise because who the fuck knows why anything is the way it is…
After much thought, tears and feeling like I am going to die after my recent break-up, I figured that hurt keeps us aware that we are still alive. The heart hurts to let us know it’s still beating. The tears flow to remind us that we can still feel. Hurt is there to show us we are not dead, not broken and not beaten.
It sounds cheesy, I know, but there it is. Right now, I am hurting like hell. Trying not to show it is fuckoff difficult and sometimes pointless. I think I should listen to my mother when she tells me “this too, shall pass”.