Kings of Leon – Youth and Young Manhood.
I remember listening to this album as a teenager, rocking out in my bedroom with the riffs pulsing in my ears (confession – I don’t know what a riff is) ..anyway. If there’s any one thing to remind me of Pretoria, South Africa and a portion of my time there. It’s this album.
Why am I playing it? Nostalgia for a time when I was young enough for my real future to have been ahead of me. To remind myself that I used to be someone else. I wonder if she’d be relieved to know I’ve come to know the importance of being deliberate.
Sticking a stake in the ground and saying this is what I decide! This is what I decide to do.
Today I began my reading. Paolo Freire – Pedagogy of the Oppressed. Wordy, high minded piece work. I think I understood about 1/3 of what I read. But the essence is there. The oppressed don’t need another hero, they need to engage in the processes that result in their liberation. It starts by becoming aware and conscious of their reality. Actively observing, acting and reflecting upon their awareness. It’s a question of getting why and how and where you are subjugated. At least that’s what I think.
I’m the only young adult in my home that isn’t formally occupied. I’ve thrown some job seeds into the ground, hoping for something to grow.
If I wasn’t me, I would seriously consider getting down in the dumps, covering myself in trash and wallowing. As it is, I can just about smell it, the wallow – but the warning bells sound off in my head – and I’m reminded to breathe and stay positive.
It’s just that adulting means getting a job and its concomitant perks; income, “freedom” (which I’m coming to see isn’t what everyone implies it is), independence, worth. Worthless because you have no job. That’s such a damaging idea. Damn.
A girl I know is getting a commendation from the Queen of England. The fucking Queen. At Buckingham Palace. That’s what she’s doing. I’m on Day 9 of my blog. chuckle.
It’s ok though. My decisions are of value and my time is of value.
I’ll get employed, of course I will. Sooner or later. In the meanwhile, in the bloody meanwhile I will grow things. I will grow us a beautiful garden with vegetables and edible goodies. Flowers and seeds.
I will transform this house, because beauty and utility and life. That’s why. Because creativity is a part of being human and fuck grocery stores with N$ 19.00 tomatoes.
If I’m supposed to be scavenging for the opportunity to slave, if that is a marker for being taken seriously. Then I’ll just not be taken seriously.
If someone should laugh at me, or scornfully turn their head – so be it.
Spoiled middle class princess who doesn’t know that real life isn’t easy?
That’s my problem. I don’t want to bury my head in the sands of an 8-5 and salary. To distance myself from reality. There’s something hiding behind the curtain of our norms and I want to see what it is.
I sound naive. I know.
It’s all so big sometimes that I get dizzy. I want things I can’t pin down.
I want understanding and confidence and freedom and a way out.
I want a pass from being an automaton. From wearing a uniform. From being confined to an office block or cubicle from morning til evening. From 2 cars and rush hour traffic. From perpetuating this …something.
Okay. I’m done.
By the way I have begun a vermi-composting project.