P.A.C.K. is a Four-Letter Word

lionroar

One month to go.

One month before we hit the road and flee my beloved Joziburg™ to settle along the Garden Route.

One month of trying to hang onto my sanity…onto my visions of a tranquil future.

Today I thought it would be an excellent idea to deal with the CD/DVD collection. It was a Confucian blessing.

INTERESTING…

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Six million other trees

garden-route

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.

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Where’s my water?

wheresmywater
Pic: Delwyn Verasamy, M&G

Yup. Daar’s fokol water.

Joziburg™ and surrounds have a heatwave. A drought… The worst since 1992 (yeah, so I remember that one – 38ºC day after day – while pregnant).

Everyone is looking for someone to blame. Naturally, the gravy train is under scrutiny. (The interesting part about making gravy is that you need water.)

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A frog he would a-wooing go, Jozi style.

frogstadpolesThe entry quoted below comes from my Facebook page, written last spring.

Some would call it love and romance, but I’d ascribe it to the primal force that drives all creatures.

About two years ago I dumped a jar full of tadpoles in the small pond of my postage-stamp-sized front garden. They thrived. And then they vanished.

Continue reading “A frog he would a-wooing go, Jozi style.”

“…and what does this thing do?”

Mature CoupleThere I am.

Teaching older people to use their smart gadgets while trying to maintain my coolth. Meanwhile, the wi-fi is farked, and I’m faced with three of Microsoft’s worst operating systems (ok, they’re all bad, but I had to choose a number) on different laptops.

Never mind that there’s an iPad, two Android tablet systems, and a couple of smartphones lurking on the flowered tablecloth.

Four of Jozi’s finest pensioners are about to step onto the treadmill that is the Internet. One of Jozi’s finest unemployed graphic artists is about to see her arse.

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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.

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“So, it’s like you’ve retired, almost…”

6Mwtf posterWHAT?

Someone, close to me, said this to me shortly after I’d been retrenched.

The air left my lungs (better places to go), my brain tried to crunch the words, my sense-of-self hauled out the giant “WTF?” poster.

NO!

People like me don’t retire. OK, maybe we do, officially, like when Old Mutual says we have to do something with that pension. But, really, like, retire?

NO WAYS!

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Why another blog about Jozi?

6Moysters“Oh, no,” 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.)

Continue reading “Why another blog about Jozi?”