Hyundai "don't tell" advert... Teach your kids to TELL

For the past two weeks I've seen this Hyundai Sante Fe advertisement that promotes children keeping secrets from their parents.... For the life of me I cannot understand how this can be viewed as anything but detrimental to a parent and child relationship that is void of any distrust....

I have two nieces and the minute they were able to understand anything was the minute that they were taught not to keep secrets from their parents.

This is such a dangerous behavior to encourage, particularly in a society where child abuse is extremely rife. Today it's a secret about an ice cream you bought for your child before lunch and tomorrow they're keeping a secret about the fact that they have been abused. Because your child was told "don't tell your mommy and daddy".

I don't believe that this is a lesson to ever teach our children not even in jest.
Brands and advertisers need to be a lot more conscious of their message,particularly when the advert directly or indirectly appeals to children.

We must do better.

Quirky kitchens

House hunting.... One of things in life that you love and hate. We've started and abandoned this process numerous times.

So we've started again.... Anyway, I've been really inspired by some of the places I've seen and have taken to searching for the most awesome kitchens, if I can't find one that exists in the home we choose my plan is to create it!

I want quirky. I want homely. I was modern but sorta country. I want this....

Set in stone that constantly breaks into pieces

I am still on that path. Everyday, in every way and I am getting better. I'm getting better at it all. Im getting better at accepting my path and it's ever changing course. Getting better at learning that I can change my path and that I am capable if I want to be. I am getting better at learning to accept the things I am struggling with and embrace the fact that those things will change in time.

I am struggling with life moving just moving on as if nothing happened. I'm struggling with the concept of death and losing loved ones. I'm struggling and I don't understand, it doesn't make sense to me. It takes my breath away and my soul screams in agony as my mind dares to even briefly, for a moment play with the thought. I can't.

My best friend lost her dad a month ago and I still breakdown as if it were my own father I've lost. I can't. I don't know how to make sense of it. I feel betrayed.

A day later we celebrated my own fathers 60th birthday. I felt like I betrayed her, my friend. I spoke at his celebration and as I spoke I realized how many things he still needed to be in my life for. I realised that I am still my parents last born child.

This inability to control deaths timing is not something I'm getting better at accepting.

Another year done 28 on the 23rd. I remember most birthdays and the awesome love that has enveloped each one of them and I realize that nothing I could ever do could express my gratitude, my love.

This is getting older. Attempting to spend your day with those who love you regardless of whether or not you want to.

I am getting better. Stronger. Wiser. Everyday, in every way.

In Retrospect: An old post, a past story, a constant truth

So 25 is closing in pretty fast now (we're counting days now...*sigh*) and there are quite a number of things going through my mind. I keep wondering why this particular number is so daunting and I just cant figure it out...Perhaps its because I only have a few days to become a charted accountant (changed my mind in std 8), write a book, travel the world and open my own -random- creative store of some sort and be mighty rich... yeah, so I clearly cant be 25 yet...I feel like ive had as many fleeting dreams as I do thoughts and each of them touch different parts of my life. My mind constantly moves me in directions that sometimes, I may be hesitant to move in. But one's heart and soul tend to be a lot more nimble than the mind.Strange how this organ and its spiritual counterpart can tell of so many happenings in one's life. Nothing can tell a story like the clear beating of a heart at the memory of events passed and words spoken, let alone the emotions captured at each.So im sitting here trying to figure out how I've gotten to be this person that I am. This person that I have gotten to know and that I have chosen to share with the people in my life. and then I realise that it is my soul that has carried me...I feel God in my life more now, than I did even a year or two ago. I feel the working of a higher power and although I believe in parts of different forms of spirituality, I feel the guidance that comes from more than just the influence of people around me.I could write for ages about the influence of various people in my life, specifically that of my loved one's and their love that has always guided and protected me. but I dont see how any of this love is humanly possible on its own. what does this biological organ have to do with this emotion that pours most uncontrollably from the depth of our souls.How can we possibly do it alone? How can we possibly live this life alone?There have been a lot of phases in my life when I have felt trapped. Our freedom is so often compromised by outside forces. My freedom is often hindered in this country by my inability to live in complete safety and without fear, its hindered by our people's inability to learn about our future by embracing our past, and the other way around. Yet in the same breath, I am free everyday in my ability to choose a better life, to choose to serve in a country that is constantly growing, to serve a me, that is constantly growing... My freedom is epitomised by my ability to think freely and to speak these thoughts, by my ability to learn and teach, to create and be judged only by my creator and to be true to myself no matter what that truth is.At 25 I've learnt that my soul is organic, fresh and healthy for as long as I keep it that way. I suppose the one who feels it knows it... I am simply on that path

Airport Sunday Syndrome

Its almost June and at this time of the year conversation generally revolves round how cold it is or how fast the year has gone, neither of which is wrong. For me winter always comes with a huge dose of the blue’s. And every winter I try to fight it. This year seems to be a lot better, Ive managed to keep running from it by staying busy at work and more recently with my studies. But airport Sundays generally have it all catch up in a breath… I really love living in Cape Town but I miss my people so much. I miss my family and my friends, I miss being able to do drinks on a random evening. For some reason the past couple of weeks have had me extremely nostalgic. Its been almost a year since we moved to Cape Town and things are so different, in both good and not necessarily bad but not so good ways. Im alone. And winter and Sundays don’t let me forget that. Its strange though, this feeling is not unfamiliar and every year since I can recall, I remember thinking of some reason that could explain why I feel this way. In high school, it was literally Sunday anxiety for the week ahead that I had perhaps not prepared for and in varsity it was generally the same. At some point it was also the feeling of being stagnant, the feeling of wanting to be out of home, the feeling of wanting to live with the person I love and not have to say goodbye. But no matter what the reason, the feeling was the same, is the same. This year I call it the airport Sunday syndrome, except today is Thursday...Today I miss my mommy, my boyfriend and my friend. Today I’d like to be surrounded by the people I love. Today I’m remembering the build up to goodbye of last year and how I was constantly surrounded by love of my family and friends in the time before we moved. Im remembering how my dad would pitch up at my home in the middle of the day for a cup of tea and a chat on his way somewhere. My people. I wonder how people do it, just perpetually live in isolation. I quite like doing it for short periods at a time or so I think until I have the company of a close friend. Anyway, this was just a quick catch up. With myself mostly. Im blessed, I always have been, I know this.

23 October... 27

Devilish Chocolate for a blessed birthday

The Help vs The Help

Last week I went to the movies with my mother and against my better judgment I chose to see The Help. The reason my judgment was against seeing this film was not because I thought it would be bad but because I knew it wouldn’t be of the quality as the novel from which it is adapted by Kathryn Stockett (2009).

Yes, the story of The Help has stirred some controversy concerning the acknowledgement or the lack there of, that was given to the contributors of the stories. None the less, the book is written in the voices of three of the characters which makes it that much more intriguing, it really is a page turner. It is written with such awesome detail of which very little is captured in the film, I don’t even think that the deep southern accent detailed in the book is as thoroughly delivered on the big screen.

I never understand how films always manage to lose parts of the story that really embrace a lot of the essence of what is being told. How is it that the director decides to completely change certain characters, their appearance and the role that they play... it really upsets me.

Of course reading the book before watching the movie almost always guarantee’s that the pictures you’ve conjured up in your own head will most probably be shot to hell and gone and even some of the scene’s you’re most excited to see, you’ll be lucky enough to have a fraction of it retold.

The story told is based on the well known race tale of the 60’s before and during the civil rights movement. Stockett however, focuses particularly on the story of the black maid, the white master and the unspoken of truths that existed between the two. It tells the tale of these average people who had a lot to fear, that decided to relate the day to day stories of their average lives, stories that were honest to their thoughts and feelings , stories that were in many ways the same as their comrades but that were still their own.

There are however things that the film does for one’s emotion that the book doesn’t quite manage. Bringing to life some of the emotion that is experienced while reading. The film allows you a more vivid understanding of the relationships that existed between white and black people in the south and particularly in Jackson Mississippi, a town that was considered one of the most racist in the 60’s. The film explores the deeply intimate relationships that existed despite the blatant hatred and hurt that was consistently inflicted. It explores and creates an understanding of the self conflict and immense confusion experienced by the children of white families who were brought up and loved by the very people they were meant to hate. It scrutinises the inconsistency that was present in the way that white people treated black people and the appreciation that a lot of them felt and even sometimes displayed toward black people.

So the book vs the movie? You have to appreciate the moments in the film of humour, hurt, vengeance and love that the actors bring to the characters but it could definitely have given a lot more attention to the detail that Stockett achieves in the novel.