This too needs a beginning.
Those of the day? I can't mind them much, beyond the parameters within which I have to tolerate them. What of the day itself then? Not just any day, but a day in a CBD.
It can't make me happy. In fact, it annoys me so much it feels as if my facial moles are standing. I prefer the night. The lights, the life, the stars, the like. Daylight is, cluttered. Noisy. Bustling. Greedy. Selfish. Filthy. Someone's always trying to get somewhere. Always pushing against you. Rubbing against you. Bumping into you. Forgetting that they smell no better than a stable. There's limited space; there's a million others like him, her and you.
Standing still to consume it all only makes your standing, worse. They don't throw tomatoes at you, but rather sword-sharp profanities. Because you're in their way, or worse - you won't respond to their advances. Which you find most-puzzling, as they've clearly not glanced at the mirror, lately. Am I expected to take manure-talking, buffalo-looking humans seriously? Just because they have penises? Cause if that's the case, then slap me dizzy with a toothpick, however you manage that cause clearly I'm stuck on Zero, where such isn't tolerated!
Sadly, the world is not convenient enough for us to take detours long enough to avoid the CBD. At some point, sometimes daily, we have to have these horrendous run-ins with the CBD-dwellers. I survive these incidents by ignoring them, the culprits. Or by cursing them out, under my breath of course. And my favourite - VENTING, soon as I reach my destination. I dare not do this in their presence, I love my face too much!
Monday, June 27, 2011
The vile that lives. Within us. In us. Forces us to act, in the most disgusting ways. The poison that is manufactured by, and in our minds. That forces us to act, in the most disgusting ways. The voice of corruption, tells him to make advances at me, forcefully. Forces me slander against her.
With the passing of time, new issues arise. We move away from rape, famine, epidemics. We focus on the oil spills, the world cup, the war, the dictators. We forget the man in the village. Robbing the clueless of the pleasures they should one day, when grown, relish... Until they're once again brought to our attention. In passing. In those moments that we forget, this deadly killer is multiplying. Finding a new victim. Spread love. Spread awareness. I'm tryna say, be aware. At all times. Be aware. If not for yourself, for the next person.
With the passing of time, new issues arise. We move away from rape, famine, epidemics. We focus on the oil spills, the world cup, the war, the dictators. We forget the man in the village. Robbing the clueless of the pleasures they should one day, when grown, relish... Until they're once again brought to our attention. In passing. In those moments that we forget, this deadly killer is multiplying. Finding a new victim. Spread love. Spread awareness. I'm tryna say, be aware. At all times. Be aware. If not for yourself, for the next person.
The Architecture of Happiness
I haven't read the book, but from the reviews I gather it's nothing to have a Hippie-party over. Hence I'm blogging about its title. But apparently, the book addresses the importance of beauty. Which, I'll get to. Sometime.
The Architecture of Happiness - quite a construct! Architecture? Isn't that something to do with buildings? Construction... Structures and stuff. So what they are saying is that, I can build my happiness? Erect it? I'm sure men agree with that hey? That (an) erection is the foundation of happiness, hey? Alright let me stop.
The big question here, however, is: How? How do I construct happiness? Is there a manual I can order on Amazon? Can I get a copy at Exclusive? Or is it maybe a physical object I can keep in my Mary Poppins? This is a revolution. Many dreams are based on this. Which human doesn't strive for happiness? And now they're suggesting that Happiness, is as easy as A-B-C! Or rather, as easy as flipping a page. Unless you can't read of course. Someone needs to holla at Dr Phil, Buddha and Jamie Oliver about their 'books to happy living' and tell em FALL BACK. The secret to life is here. Permanent Happiness can now be found at your local bookshop. BUST!
Jerking back to reality, 'The Architecture of Happiness' is a beautiful theory. But. Personally, I think it's some bullshit, the concept that is. As convincing as the title sounds. It sells us quite a large dream. But I guess I won't really understand until I read it, the actual book. Which I should probably do. One day.
The importance of beauty though, is a way to happiness. The importance of recognising beauty, to be precise. Depending on the context, as well as the object of beauty. I hate how people understand 'beauty' in physical terms only. That's how we fail at life. Butterflies fluttering their wings colleting pollen, and in turn making me death-sick, is a form of beauty. And so is the birth of a birth of a cow. Disgusting, yet breathtaking. It's the little things that we miss. And then we complain about the miserable lives we lead.
From what I know, happiness starts from within. You cannot build nor buy it. You can't read about it or see it, and instantly feel it. Unless you're already happy. It starts with you, in you.
...and that's me in a somewhat happy state. I've got lipgloss, I'm with my friends AND I'm at the beach. A slice of Happiness.
The Architecture of Happiness - quite a construct! Architecture? Isn't that something to do with buildings? Construction... Structures and stuff. So what they are saying is that, I can build my happiness? Erect it? I'm sure men agree with that hey? That (an) erection is the foundation of happiness, hey? Alright let me stop.
The big question here, however, is: How? How do I construct happiness? Is there a manual I can order on Amazon? Can I get a copy at Exclusive? Or is it maybe a physical object I can keep in my Mary Poppins? This is a revolution. Many dreams are based on this. Which human doesn't strive for happiness? And now they're suggesting that Happiness, is as easy as A-B-C! Or rather, as easy as flipping a page. Unless you can't read of course. Someone needs to holla at Dr Phil, Buddha and Jamie Oliver about their 'books to happy living' and tell em FALL BACK. The secret to life is here. Permanent Happiness can now be found at your local bookshop. BUST!
Jerking back to reality, 'The Architecture of Happiness' is a beautiful theory. But. Personally, I think it's some bullshit, the concept that is. As convincing as the title sounds. It sells us quite a large dream. But I guess I won't really understand until I read it, the actual book. Which I should probably do. One day.
The importance of beauty though, is a way to happiness. The importance of recognising beauty, to be precise. Depending on the context, as well as the object of beauty. I hate how people understand 'beauty' in physical terms only. That's how we fail at life. Butterflies fluttering their wings colleting pollen, and in turn making me death-sick, is a form of beauty. And so is the birth of a birth of a cow. Disgusting, yet breathtaking. It's the little things that we miss. And then we complain about the miserable lives we lead.
From what I know, happiness starts from within. You cannot build nor buy it. You can't read about it or see it, and instantly feel it. Unless you're already happy. It starts with you, in you.
...and that's me in a somewhat happy state. I've got lipgloss, I'm with my friends AND I'm at the beach. A slice of Happiness.
Thursday, June 16, 2011
Battle Society
Relevance is a demon I'm learning to tame. At my pace. This has absolutely nothing to do with my social standing, whatever that may be. I have wild ideas, about everything. Heck, I struggle with indentifying between intuition and logic. Who does that?!
I have no interest in this 'I'm a socialite.' dream. I can't even define that word. In my head however, it lies somewhere between whore and well, whore. Male and female. But as I've said - I have no business defining your lifestyle nor deciding your attitude.
I'm talking real nigga shit, which is my code for "Hey, I really just wanna make a noise 'cause a thought jumped at me." It's really more of a mini struggle, against myself, maybe. My mind, or intuition. Or that, force rather. It's more a case of Relevance to the World. What am I doing as Phelisa to make their situation better? Her life better? How am I making her smile? Or spreading love? That to me, means so much more than being dressed by Hip Hop, or being an MC at a specific brand launch. Truth be told, fly as they are - the ladies I see on my tv or on magazines are doing jack for me, and my neighbour. I know this because my neighbour is a geriatric who works at the Hospice, and doesn't even know who Justin Bierber is! When she's not at work, she spends her days with a bottle of whatever then proceeds to fight the demons that accompany the Drink, I call it hallucinating.
I'm not trying to be all goody-goody, but these things actually concern me. Giving a helping hand where I can makes my heart smile. I imagine it turns yellow. It could be that colour though, 'cause I've got some fat 'round those regions. But that's a story for another day. Maybe what I'm saying is, as much as I hate or admire or criticize, or even aspire to be, celebrities and/or socialites - their lives are not affecting me directly. My path has nothing to do with them, I'm just doing my best at this ME business. Do you, don't rub it in my face or act like you're God's gift to me. And I'll continue living.
I have no interest in this 'I'm a socialite.' dream. I can't even define that word. In my head however, it lies somewhere between whore and well, whore. Male and female. But as I've said - I have no business defining your lifestyle nor deciding your attitude.
I'm talking real nigga shit, which is my code for "Hey, I really just wanna make a noise 'cause a thought jumped at me." It's really more of a mini struggle, against myself, maybe. My mind, or intuition. Or that, force rather. It's more a case of Relevance to the World. What am I doing as Phelisa to make their situation better? Her life better? How am I making her smile? Or spreading love? That to me, means so much more than being dressed by Hip Hop, or being an MC at a specific brand launch. Truth be told, fly as they are - the ladies I see on my tv or on magazines are doing jack for me, and my neighbour. I know this because my neighbour is a geriatric who works at the Hospice, and doesn't even know who Justin Bierber is! When she's not at work, she spends her days with a bottle of whatever then proceeds to fight the demons that accompany the Drink, I call it hallucinating.
I'm not trying to be all goody-goody, but these things actually concern me. Giving a helping hand where I can makes my heart smile. I imagine it turns yellow. It could be that colour though, 'cause I've got some fat 'round those regions. But that's a story for another day. Maybe what I'm saying is, as much as I hate or admire or criticize, or even aspire to be, celebrities and/or socialites - their lives are not affecting me directly. My path has nothing to do with them, I'm just doing my best at this ME business. Do you, don't rub it in my face or act like you're God's gift to me. And I'll continue living.
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