Six million other trees



In August last year, I started this blog. I was in a pensive mood, caught up in my own thoughts about being a Joziburger™. A love/hate relationship that was part of what I had been and what I wanted to be…an editorial graphic designer vs a free-agent-who-will-do-anything-that-makes-life-interesting.

Some 220-plus applications for jobs, only five-or-so interviews, and only two replies………..that hurts. I have a CV that I am proud of, achievements that are singular, places I’ve been and seen, projects that wouldn’t have worked if I hadn’t thrown myself wholeheartedly into them.

That’s when you look in the mirror and wonder if your career was all just smoke….and mirrors.


…yes, hurts…


And not long after the blog launched, I decided I was quitting Joziburg™. Time to follow the dream I’d had since I was a pre-teen – go to the Garden Route, or live in the Klein Karoo.

I’ve done it. The house is sold. The transfer has been signed. The high school for The Empress has been chosen. In 48 days I am on my way.

To another place that has countless trees!

So, Joziburg’s™ Six Million Trees are about to morph into the Garden Route’s Six Million Trees! I am not leaving in order to never return – Joziburg™ is MY town….but I am following my heart.

Dream on.


Freakish Friday

I DO think I’m mad. Bloody crazy. Nuts. Gaga. Talk about biting off more than I can chew? Tomorrow is the day for doing that.

I am going to embrace my insane Joziburger™ self and Go Big Or Go Home.

First up: my inaugural meeting at the local chapter of BNI. This will be at 7am. Yes. 7am. Yay, for doing the school run at sunrise.    **thud**    I’m hoping I can slot in there, and make myself useful (and make myself some money), while finding out what the other members can do for me.

Second up: my inaugural training session for the Silver Surfer School. The ladies are apparently all geared up, Dear Mamma is a little revved, and I have to rock it like a star. Haha. Go, me. Just one small problem…the new printer I ordered is clearly making its way to me via ox wagon. So, no flashy brochures until that arrives. Bloody hell.

Lastly: I’m going to shadow one of the Pure Romance consultants (she’s kinda like my Team Leader) at a party in Centurion during the evening. 6MT hits the Yakkarandastad. With pink silicone and batteries, and divinely delightful personal products.

Why another blog about Jozi?

6Moysters“Oh, noooo,” you say, “another bloody blog about bloody Johannesburg. When will it end?”

You’re probably right. But this is a blog about how I see Joburg. Jozi. And how it makes me smile and wonder.

These days my life involves a lot more travel around Jozi. I was retrenched in January. Now I have to find ways to earn the proverbial rusk. I have visited more parts of the city than I ever did before…probably because I was once stuck in an office every day, five days a week – part of the engine room below decks.

I’ve tried to find work that is the same as what I did before, but Jozi also has her bitch side. There is no work. Or – if there is – then it is at a pittance, or else the purveyors of that work are in hack-and-slash mode and want to chop this tall poppy (ok, short poppie) down to size by telling me I’m too old, or overqualified.

Fuck. (Yes, I swear. Live with it.)

And then there are the closet racists. Oh. Them. As soon as they hear I am battling to find work, they sidle up to me and mutter about how I was so certainly passed over (at retrenchment) for some ‘other’ person, probably of the previously-disadvantaged hue *gag*. But I take a certain malicious pleasure in telling them that isn’t the truth, and that the person who kept the position was the same race, hue, and gender as them. That induces puzzlement. The status ain’t at all quo.

See? Jozi gots dem all.

Meantime, I reinvent myself every week. I am so used to deadlines that, if there is no visible result by Friday, I start to panic (thirty years of clock-watching will do that) because I have not produced any goods. I must produce! I must work! I am becoming unnoticed! Work! Schmooze! Network! Connect! Look! See, see, see!

The Jozi malaise.

A golden treadmill.

But this blog will attempt to ignore that aspect of what was once my treadmill – because I am seeing so many new things, visiting so many forgotten places, and no longer worrying about getting phone calls at odd times (about errors that have to be fixed before deadline) or sudden new timetables in my life due to a colleague’s indisposition!

How. Amazing. Is. That?

Jozi is now my oyster. And I’d like you to follow me as I tilt that delicacy to my mouth, laced with tabasco, and gulp it down…and then take a sip of the Cape’s finest sparkling wine.