Julle, ek het nou eers ‘n klein stukkie om van my hart af te kry

geliewe M van Litnet by adres webvoet@litnet.co.za is ‘n ongemanierde drol.  Ek stuur uit die goedheid van my hart die ander dag, op versoek van iemand wat dink my begrip van ‘n sekere boek bo-gemiddelde insig bring aan geliewe webvoet.  koue *oes se niks, nie dankie, nie nee dankie, nie ons het hom gekry en wag nie, nie ‘n ander kak verskoning soos dis te lank ons kan dit nie plaas nie … net mooi NIKS.

toe wag ek dat ek nou in die diknag dik die moer in raak en geniet toe hierdie klein gesprekkie wat BINNE ELF MINUTE geantwoord is …!!!!   11 minute !!!!!!!  nie twee dae nie, nie ‘n uur nie … 11 minute !!!!!!

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ek

ek wil net weet of jy my email ten minste gekry het oor **** **** **** .
die boek is geskryf deur ****** ***** , en my brief  van twee/drie dae gelede is nie geplaas nie, en jy het nie eens gereply uit ordentlikheid om vir my
‘n Automated message te stuur wat se “dankie maar nee dankie”  nie …
hel, word julle ook nou al so koud en robot-fokken agtig soos die amerikaners ???
 
is dit nie genoeg dat ek tussen die lot Urban Isolated Niemand ken hulleself patete in California moet bly nie, maar my nostalgie oor my eie warm en goeie volk word in flarde gebliksem deur julle ewige mimicary van die amerikanes ??
 
Wees die Expats se nostalgie werd !!!!!!!

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M 11 minute later:

Ek sal die resensie op SêNet plaas, dis net so swak geskryf dat dit die boek
sekerlik skade gaan berokken.

M

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ek:

I like white cake, do you like white cake ?

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ek’s nou so die hel in soos wat ek lanklaas was.  My ma’le het nou die dag gese hoe koud en afsydig het ons volk geword.  iemand wat ‘n email skryf is mos nie ‘n mens nie. het mos nie tyd en dinge in hulle geskrifte gesit nie, hulle verdien mos nie ordentlikheid nie … ai.

mag M eendag iets wil he, en dan ignoreer word.  en mag dit die tandarts wees wat hom/haar ignoreer!

As I sit here at 3:22am, unable to sleep, unable to even think of putting my light off, I am wondering how other people entertain themselves in the wee hours of the night.

I’m too tired to be productive, and too awake to just put my laptop down.  Somewhere in the back of my curiosity, I’m scared I’ll miss out on something that might happen.  But WHAT prey tell, is supposed to happen at 3:22am that can be so very interesting that I need to be awake for it ?!

When and how did my circadian clock’s battery run out? Seriously, who broke the little ruts of my inner mechanism which are supposed to tell me that I need to get some rest?  Here’s the real mystery. I have been sleeping 11-13 hour nights for the past 2 weeks straight.  It’s just the actual falling asleep that has been super difficult.  but that has always been a pain. 
This doesn’t work well at all having a morning person for a husband.  He is happiest when he gets to sleep and wake early. Matter of fact, it drives him nuts knowing that I am still awake when he goes to sleep. 

But it’s really unfair, because he just decides to go to sleep, lies down and 2 minutes later he is sound asleep and far removed from reality.

So what am I supposed to do then? The whole valley is sound asleep and happily getting their rest to look all puffed and fluffy tomorrow, while I will reluctantly open my eyes at around 10am or later when the dogs’s incessant crying will prompt me to get up to feed them.  I kind of cheated, I gave them a little bit at 2am so they won’t be so hungry in the morning. 

There is nobody to talk to. Talking on the phone to my friends in other countries is a bad idea, as it will wake my lovely, taking a walk is just silly because it’s freezing outside.

I’ll lie down, and try what Lovely does, close my eyes and look at the patterns that form inside my eyelids. Hope they’re not too interesting, because then there is no chance of drifting off

A great blogger is asking my opinion on the opportunity in India right now for IT professionals.  My opinion is, as it was before, that the opportunity in the USA is better still.  My reply is so long that I’d rather post it, as opposed to replying to a comment.

Opportunity, sure.
if it is so splendid right now in India, why are you here ?  I will venture a guess, and it’s only a guess …
A comparable job in India will still not pay you a salary comparable in USD. 

A comparable job in India simply does not exist, because here in the USA, people arrive to work at what … 8 or 9am, and by 5:10pm there is nobody but the night guard to be found in the building. 

In India managers work the people to their last nerve. They push them to the edge of insanity from cumulated stress.  Push push push. The person, the YOU that sits in front of the monitor gets diminished to your willingness to spend 16 of your 24 waking hours at the office.  Not one single opportunity to tell you how insignificant you are, and how countless scores of others are waiting in line for your job is ever passed up.

Not for one moment am I ignoring the sudden rise of what has been happening in India lately. I was a programmer in Silicon Valley right through the IT Bubble of Y2K.  Believe it or not, it felt exactly like what India is feeling now.  something like this  WHHHOOOOEEEEEEE … we are all invinsible …. !!!

But then again, plenty of the good people participating in this IT boom in India right now, actually lived through it here in the Valley too. How ironic. To go through that twice. I wouldn’t want to. 

Granted, and I have to make this note: I have not been in India, I have no idea what life there was like before, and I have no idea what life there is like now.  but my friend is there as we speak, in Hyderabad. And the amount of People from India who are applying yearly for their H1B visas (some through Multiple employers!!!!)  make me believe that the USA still reigns supreme. 

Now, two weeks after my super nose-procedure, I have discovered great new possibilities for the previous trumpeteering. Turns out that my trumpeteering was in large due to the same thing that caused my migraines all these years. Ultra swolen lower turbinates. Starting this very week, I have been able to have gentle, sweet soft sounding nose-blows. much like the people I’ve admired in my previous post. Isn’t that amazing? All this time it was simply a physiological obstruction causing me to sound like a deflating balloon with each sniffle episode. And more than that, I sleep like a person deserves to sleep now that I can breathe. Thank you Nose Doctor for fixing SO MANY symptoms all at once.

in Oktober 1993 of 1994 het ek in Hermanus gaan vakansie hou saam met ‘n skoolvriendin. Baie spontaan sommer so skielik.  Voor dit kan ek nie dink dat ek al in die Kaap was nie, want ek het in Pretoria grootgeword en toe laterjare was ons Johannesburg toe.

Maar op die een dag soveel jare gelede, het ek met ‘n Carling Black Label in my hand gesit in so grot affere plek in Hermanus en walvisse kyk.  Dit gebeur in Oktober dat die wallies en dolfyne deurtrek met hulle kleintjies, en soos ek daar sit, het iets in my hart geroer en vir my gese ek gaan altyd baie naby aan die see bly.  Natuurlik het dit net mooi niks sin gemaak nie, want paar dae later is ek terug na die dorre mid-Transvaal toe, terug Johannesburg toe om my stadslewe verder te lei.  Maar ek was nie meer dieselfde nie.  Daar was ‘n onrus in my wat niks behalwe water kon stilmaak nie.  Ek sou ‘n stroompie ontdek nie te ver van die huis af nie, en ure lank elke week daar gaan deurbring. Met of sonder vriende.  Dis ook by daai stroompie waar ek was die dag toe Johannesburg skielik een middag sneeu gekry het.

Maar nie lank daarna nie, is ek Israel toe.  Woestyn toe.  En nooit het dit my bygeval presies hoe baie ek by die see is nie.  en nou woon ek in San Francisco, waar orals waar jy gaan jy op ‘n manier niks meer as 3 myl van die naaste water af is nie.  Ek sien die see en water orals.  en my hart is stil. Ek wens net dit was meer gereeld lekker warm.

For far too long, I have had migraines, and for far too long I’ve been trying to tell the doctors that it is somehow tied to my nose.  First I get a really upset nose - I used to think it was sinus, but it was congestion - then it presses really hard on my right eye, and then the migraine ensues.

I was laughed at, some doctors thought I was hypochondriac, another took X-rays and said we have to fix that devieated septum.   see, as a child, I always insisted in partaking in every outside sport and game available at school, soccer with the boys before school, netball after school in organised teams, softball, running, everything I could play in that didn’t have conflicting schedules.  Notice all the ball sports?  And then consider a kid with one of the worst hand-eye coordinations you can imagine, and put this kid, with that combination on the softball field standing with a glove held high, eyes towards the sky, just waiting for that ball to come down.  It almost never occured to me to move my glove slightly so that for a moment I wouldn’t actually see the ball, but catch it, and so ended up with a lot of balls caught by my nose.  This was also true for netball, there too I would get stunned like a deer in front of headlights and end up catching the ball with my nose.  Hence the deviated septum. There is just so much abuse any body part is expected to endure without being crippled.

But this is not about how I catch balls, this is about my nose.  Finally 20 years later, I went to an ENT surgeon and said I have to have to have to get off any medications related to sinus, nasal congestion and particularly painkillers.  And all of those I take as a result of nasal congestion.  He took a look, sent me for a CT Scan - oh the pictures are so pretty, and they burn it on a CD with a software that lets you drag it and you get a little movie of your skull in thin slices.  It’s SO amazing!

So I came back and his prognosis was this.  He would break my nose, then burn it.  ahahha . no not really, I just think it sounds good like that.  The choices were to break/fix the septum, and / or to burn the turbinates - those parts in the nose that swell up from allergies and when you sleep to let you know to turn on the other side.  Burning them accomplishes this:  It creates scar tissue under the surface, and scar tussue is scar tissue, it does not swell up. so Badaaaammmmm. drumroll, no more swelling!

That is the option I chose.  Yesterday morning we burnt my turbinates and now I’m in a good healing process.  I slept so well last night.  and funny thing is, my nose doesn’t hurt, and it doesn’t even feel more uncomfortable than any other day prior to the procedure!  Just goes to show in what a sorry state my nose is, that after a surgery I don’t feel a difference when it is swolen up!

I won’t be able to go riding the Fazer , or my own Suzi for a few weeks, because wind does hurt. funny istn’ it ?

A few weeks ago, we (actually my husband) acquired a new toy. Brand new and shiny, full of pep and a lot of oomph.
This new toy was a 1000cc Super Toy Yamaha FZ1, affectionately known as a Fazer.  First things first we rounded up all our sportbiker friends and took it for a 120mile spin that very Sunday.  What a Joyride.  I was on my Suzuki DR650 - a not so super bike for long road trips, but what the hell, I wanted to ride.  So we came home with aching muscles and super happy souls, and we haven’t stopped since then.

My mom of course does not let any opportunity pass by to let me know just how weak the knowledge of me on this bike makes her heart, but then she went and did ‘n super sweet thing. she sent each of us a little scarf that is simply perfect for bike riding.   I was so impressed with her supporting our hobby / transportation preference even though it scares her a little. THANKS MOM !

so this weekend we rode out again. This time I rode the 45miles to our buddy’s house, and the hubby drove behind me with the dogs in the car.  WHY? oh, because we went to a lovely National Park where the dogs could run around like wild ones all day long in the mountain.  As soon as we got there the guys took the bikes on the 60 mile scenic route, and us ladies took the highway to the park where we all met up again.  Immediately the pooches and I went for a mountain walk, and I thought I found gold when I saw a little pond for them to cool off in.  They were so happy, particularly our little guy - he came out of the pond, walked and sniffed a bit and then dove and rolled like HE Found gold … which indeed he did.  A super fresh wet pile of cow Gold

Who can even get angry being out in nature?  I tried to lure him back to the water, but soon found there would be no luck luring him in all the way for a wash unless I swim into it myself and drag him with me.  Honestly, this wansn’t going to happen in that particular pond swarming with tadpoles and musquito larvae.  So I left him as is, HAPPY AS CAN BE, and we headed back into the mountains.  A long walk later we ended up back in camp where I washed him under a tap and let him run free again.  He played like a rockstar that day.  Actually all three of us (me & 2 dogs) did.  we ran and climbed and investigated all the little roads and places until I had to rest.

After this I rode  the bike home again in the COLD while hubbykins drove the dogs in the comfy van with aircon and music.  What a weekend.  Again our bodies were aching and our souls happy.  I love Summers and Motorcycles.

I’m so tired of exams.
Just did one today, and my apathy towards the whole institution of writing exams for boring classes is taking its toll on my ever decreasing enthusiasm.  All that keeps me going is the promise that this MBA will be worth it a few years from now.  The doors which are supposed to swing open in the work environment … blah blah … I cannot believe that this is considered a supreme education.  The stuff they teach is common knowledge with academically inspired titles.  Common human behaviors get tagged with boring new long complicated names, an exam is set up, and suddenly it’s a course worthy of study in a Masters Program.  Perhaps I just expect too much. 

Hoe nader ek kom aan my groen kaart hier in amerika, hoe meer voel ek soos ‘n Afrikaner.  Hoe minder probeer ek my aksent wegsteek, en hoe meer is ek trots elke keer as iemand my vra daarna.

Twee jaar gelede, nadat ek al ‘n paar jaar hier was, het ek ’n baie goeie ou vriend uit Israel eendag vertel dat Amerikaners dink ek het die coolste aksent.  Sy antwoord?  Klink my vir die eerste keer in jou lewe is jy trots en is dit ‘n goeie ding in jou lewe dat jy ‘n Boer is! 

 Sien, ek was altyd baie skaam oor daai feit.  elke ieder een van ons loop met iets op ons hart wat ons skaam maak, en vir my was dit my Boere bloed, my ooms met hulle verdomde kakie klere en vanpaste houding en lewensuitkyk.  Wat my skaam gemaak het is nie dat hulle boere is nie, dit was die wete dat hulle so skaamteloos geglo het hulle witvelle maak hulle beter. 

En nou, noudat ek op die nippertjie staan om ‘n 2e land in 10 jaar “Home” te maak … nou skielik voel ek barstens toe trots op my Afrikaner wees.  Nooit sal ek trots wees op wat die boere nasie aan ander nasies gedoen het nie, maar nooit sal ek so naief wees om te dink dit is die enigste plek in die wereld waar dit gebeur het nie.  Ek kan net op die stadium trots wees op my mede-Suid Afrikaners wat hulle vryheid behels het en ‘n nuwe lewe uitgekap het in ‘n stuimige land.  maar hierdie is nie oor Suid Afrikaners nie, dis oor my.

Ek wil bosveld toe. Ek wil die diere hoor en die voeltjies. ek wil sit en kyk hoe hulle verby stap en knibbel aan ‘n blaar. sorgeloos, vry.  Ek wil my familie sien, klein K wat nou al 6 maande oud is en wie ek nog nooit ontmoet het nie. My suster se man wie ek nog nooit ontmoet het nie, en my neefs en niggies se kinders wie ek nog nooit ontmoet het nie.

5 jaar gaan so vinnig verby, en in 5 jaar gebeur baie min met een persoon, maar daar gebeur BAIE in ‘n familie wat 45 mense sterk staan.

You do good things, good things will happen to you.

and good things are about to happen a plenty in this town