Monthly Archives: June 2015

It Is Never Too Much

I wrote this last week and I wasn’t sure whether I should post it or not. I wrote it when I was in a discordant mood. But, here it is. This blog is just a diary in a glass box anyway.

This past week, I’ve been feeling as if life has been very loud. Visualise trying to have a conversation with someone, a friendly and empty conversation. You’re halfway through this little chat but there’s a lot of noise around you; it is so overwhelming, you have to stop and just listen, listen to how the world is hurting. This isn’t white noise, I’m talking about the sounds of what human beings can do to each other and to themselves: the screams, the gun shots, the police sirens, the abject daftness that flies out of people’s mouths on a regular, the sadness, confusion.

I don’t know where I saw what I’m going to describe but for some reason, I always thought sociopaths were diagnosed this way: you’re strapped to a chair, electrodes are attached to your scalp, it is just you and a television screen, nothing else to distract you, everything is standardized and controlled. A sequence of images pop up on the screen: a daisy, a puppy, a plate of food, a decapitated body, a cloud, a bright pink newborn baby, a palm tree, a severed limb, a shoe, your own passport image, a clip of an execution by firing squad, a rainbow, a bloodied head with it’s contents splattered on a wall, a meadow. As the sequence continues, an EEG records your brain activity and if its peaks and troughs correlate with the images of gore and images of normality, you’re not a sociopath, that is, you became troubled by the nasty bits and settled by the nicer things. But if the EEG shows a seemingly steady line, that is, you didn’t even flinch at the sight of brain mush smeared on a white wall, you are indeed a sociopath. I’m sure this test is a thing; I just can’t remember where I saw it.

I was watching a show we all know and love and there was a rape scene. I watched all the way through but when it was over, I found myself thinking this is too much and I immediately felt stupid. I felt hypocritical. I can’t fully understand how rape victims feel but I can imagine. Scenes from a TV show are someone else’s reality, it could be mine. What I couldn’t watch without feeling like a total wimp is what someone is going through, has gone through and will unfortunately go through and it annoys me that I felt it was too much to see.

Seeing images of war, of hate crimes, of human despair, poverty, the aftermath of natural disasters make you feel some type of way, right? Unless you’re a psychopath, you feel some sort of empathy towards what you’re seeing but you look at it for as long as you feel is polite or necessary then you turn the page or click the next link and it’s gone. We feel sorry for the people in those scenes for a couple of minutes, maybe the whole day but then that’s it, it’s gone and we move on. That is the sad part of human nature. We don’t tend to linger, we don’t tend to fight for things that aren’t directly inconveniencing us at that present moment. Oh, the earthquake in Nepal? Boohoo. Revoked citizenship for Haitian children in Dominican Republic? Poor them. 276 girls kidnapped by Boko Haram are still missing and could be used as suicide bombers? Terrible. A shooting in a church in South Carolina? Damn, not again. A man kicks in a pregnant woman’s womb until the baby dies? What the hell? But hey, somebody else will sort it out, it’s not my problem, I’m still alive, I’m still here. I should donate a pound here and there to make myself feel better. I am anti a lot of things: anti-racism, anti-misogyny, anti-poverty, anti-everything that is utterly wrong with this planet. But I always feel like no one, especially myself, is doing anything besides thinking about these things not being a thing.

I am a human, yes? And as humans, despite the circumstances we find ourselves in, there are a gazillion and one things that could happen to any of us, all of us, at any given time. With that, it could easily be me going through what I find so disheartening to view, but the fact that it’s not me smudges out my hurt. I empathise for a while but then I don’t worry about it at all until I’m faced with another sight of something awful again. It’s such a cycle of hypocritical bullshit. And what annoys me even more is that I can’t change the world. I can’t stop every rape, I can’t stop every shooting, I can’t produce world peace, I can’t end starvation, poverty, racism and pure stupidity but I want to but that’s all it is. I want to but I can’t. What’s even worse is the fact that I can’t is okay. It’s okay for me to not be able to do anything because it is what it is. It’s okay for everyone. But I’m still angry and confused at the end of the day. My concept on humanity is very… ungraspable.

I just wish, I just hope. I do what I can in the circle around me, I absorb what I can and try to advocate in my own small way but it is never enough. It is never too much.

Georgina ❤

Not Built To Confront You

I really don’t like confrontation or tension. I know some people live for it, they live for the drama, they live for the buzz, they relish in the discomfort of others. I am a big ball of nerves; everything and anything will unsettle me. I was knitting my way to nostalgia one evening and I just remembered all the times I could have royally turned all the way up but the little chicken that I was just wouldn’t rise to it. Here are two of those times.

It was Valentine’s Day season and I was around 14/15. That year, we had this secret admirer post box where everyone could write little love notes to someone they liked and on Valentine’s Day, the messages would be distributed accordingly. I wrote a note and thought nothing of it. However, the day before the letters were going to be handed out, there was a lot of murmuring whenever I was in a vicinity until finally, someone several school years below me came to tell me this girl in my class had gone into the box, found my letter and read it out to everyone who would lend an ear to hear. I remember feeling wonderment initially. I found it completely bizzare and somehow endearing but then humiliation took hold, I don’t know why. I shouldn’t have felt ashamed, he was going to find out eventually but maybe it was because the crucial element of secrecy had been totally violated and stomped on.

Well, I confronted the girl in question and she vehemently denied all the allegations, expectedly. She was the only one who could have done it because she was the only one who was around at the time of the crime who knew my handwriting, see? I left the situation but it still haunted me, I couldn’t be in the same room as her at the same time, I avoided eye contact with her, it was so hard for me to just ignore all the tension. It was thick and sticky, just hanging over our heads like a pail of honey. The boy in question didn’t even see the whole mess as a big deal, he just found it cute. It got to a point where I had a dream about it and it was such a messed up yet visually stunning dream and I remember it vividly: my tormentor and I were in this fenced-off patch of land surrounded by oak trees, the sky was clear and beautiful, it was dark, the leaves rustled, the stars were bright and there was a breeze in the air, it was just us. We started shouting at each other, incoherently at first then Jacob from Twilight style, we literally morphed into white horses. I’m not even shitting you, we literally transformed into stallions and we were neighing our asses off, hot air streaming, tails flaying, everything. She was about to charge at me and I galloped away into the distance. I woke up at that point and I just stared at the wall in my bedroom, telling myself that enough was enough. The next day, I walked up to her, looked her right in the eye and said, “look, it’s all trivial, can we just get over this and move on?” and we hugged it out.

My heart isn’t built to hold a grudge. Even if I haven’t done something wrong, the issue will still weigh down on me until I solve it. I’m becoming more resilient with age but back then, I couldn’t hack it as you will definitely be able to tell by this next occurrence.

Assembly time in boarding school was a mess. It was prayer chant after prayer chant, national anthems and pledges, some guy with the most awful moustache screaming at over 500 of us, all lined up just accepting our fate. This particular balls-less moment of mine happened days after my 12th birthday and menstruation was mother nature’s gift to me. I hadn’t worked out the kinks yet but I was in pain and there was no way I was going to stand all the way through the useless morning rituals whilst my uterus conspired against me. There was a policy, you see: if you were ill, you could sit down during assembly and the health prefect would come round to interrogate you. If your reason seemed legit, you could sit and be the envy of all the other poor souls who hopped from one foot to the other in agony. The health prefect that year was evil incarnate. She was like 6’3”; she carried around a bust that would have been so magical to lay my head on. She permanently scowled. She frightened me to no end. She made people cry; she spoke pidgin when she was lecturing the hell out of us juniors; she demanded to be called Senior *her name* and if you dared to omit the prefix, you were doomed. God, I have suffered in this life.

Anyway, my ass was firmly planted and I waited. She got to me, towering over me, peering down at me over her goliath chest and growled “what’s wrong with you?” I remember shrinking underneath her glare; I don’t think I could ever forget just how small I felt in that moment. I managed to say “I have period pains.” She leaned in even closer, turned her ear towards me and said “Eh?” and I repeated myself, a decibel louder. She gave me a cold look, eyed me up and down and asked how old I was. My brain to mouth pathway was well and truly frozen because before my body clock had time to reboot itself and consult my memory, I blurted out “11.” Without a second’s hesitation, she snapped her fingers, casually told me to “get up” and walked to the next victim. I was dumbfounded. I was utterly stupefied. I couldn’t believe I had just said that, I couldn’t believe I had forgotten my own age. With retrospect, I realise it wasn’t just I who had massively cocked up that whole moment, it was the godforsaken prefect too. How is she deciding girls who are below a certain age cannot have periods? What if I was genuinely 11, genuinely having a battle of worlds inside me? Every time I’ve replayed that moment in my head, I’ve always had myself tell the prefect to do one. I’ve always told her to get her facts straight and her life sorted out as she clearly doesn’t know shit. I’ve always had myself remain seated and dared her to move me. But alas, in that moment, 7 years ago, I just stared at the back of her mammoth-like body until she turned back to face me, screaming “are you deaf? I said get up.” And I walked to the back of the line, on the verge of tears, shame overwhelming me.

I’m really not here to be anyone’s enemy; I’m not here to make anyone’s life miserable. If I could make everyone happy, I would. I just want to sprinkle my fairy dust of love and life on us all. But let a bitch try me. I joke, please don’t try me.

Song of the Week

I can rap this whole thing, honestly. #Throwbackkk


Georgina ❤


Is It Really Real Though?

Just so you know, there will be spoilers for the movie Tomorrowland: A World Beyond. So, stop now if you plan on watching it. I highly doubt you want to watch it but you never know.

I loathe movies whose sole message is to preach about the imminent demise of Earth. I’m talking about 2012 (that movie was trash, utter trash), Interstellar (if it wasn’t such a mindfuck of a movie, I would hate it but I can’t), Elysium (why Matt Damon, why?) and every other soul-crushing apocalyptic film there is out there. Well, dare I say it, a movie singing to the same tune has finally gotten through my several walls of concrete and it has touched my heart and my mind and that movie was a Disney movie, can you believe it? Not only did it make sense, it terrified me.

The whole movie was about this other dimension called Tomorrowland. It was, obviously, 10,000 times better than Earth but for some reason which was super unclear, our world was going to end in 58 days precisely because of this monitor in Tomorrowland. Everyone figures out that the only way to save the Earth is by switching that machine off, go figure, but around 100 minutes in, Hugh Laurie who played the villain, goes into this totally expected monologue about why that monitor needs to be kept on and this is where I got messed up.

So this monitor is like a satellite that beams into different dimensions, including ours and it beams this idea that our Earth is destined to be overwhelmed and perish. It was subliminally incepting this notion that our Earth is dying and we are killing it by our greed, neglect and waste. But the villain kept stressing that he initially began emitting the signal to scare us into realising what life would become if we didn’t take care of what we have but he pressed that we just accepted our fate and since we had accepted it, we dived head first into ensuring that would be our end; no one was willing to accept a different fate or steer the wheel down another road, a happier and brighter road. And I really got shook. I really had to just stop and consolidate, considering it was a film meant for 12 year olds and their parents or whatever. The message was so realistic, I had to think: what if it was actually true?

What if this whole thing we know as life is actually some state we’ve all been induced into thinking is real? What if everything we eat and inhale and drink is all pumped with chemicals or enhancements to keep us completely embedded in this life? What if every outlawed substance is actually the only gateway to exposing what life is really about? What if Martin Luther King Jr., Malcolm X, John F. Kennedy, John Lennon, Gandhi, and dare I say it, Nelson Mandela all knew something besides wanting to make the world a much better place? Or more realistically, what if someone, a higher being, really is beaming this notion that our world is destined to destruction by the work of our hands and we’re just accepting it?

It’s all really crazy though right? It’s all just conspiracy talk. It’s all far-fetched but the most powerful thing we have is our imagination. Our imagination is what leads to reality. You think, therefore, you are. You exist because your mind tells you so. I’m writing this because my mind is working. Surely filmmakers and authors of dystopian books such as 1984, Fahrenheit 451, The Handmaid’s Tale, even The Hunger Games who come up with these worlds that seem so far-fetched yet entirely possible have an inkling of what’s going on or at least an idea of what is to come?

I can’t believe a Disney movie has managed to put me on the absolute edge regarding my own existence. It was a really mind-blowing concept; I don’t know why people didn’t go to see it, it didn’t do too well in the box office. But just think about it. Think long and hard. Think about what the higher authorities aren’t telling us, think about the outer body experiences you have. Think about all those moments you’ve had thinking why something is as it is and why no one is challenging it or taking their sweet time to act on it. Get all existential, it’s good for you.

Mini Rant of The Week

A word is enough for the wise: stop getting your knickers in a twist over things that do not affect your life. If it’s not directly stopping the flow of food into your mouth, why are you making so much noise? Worry about the plank in your own eye before screaming about the speck in someone else’s. Gosh.

Song of the Week

Georgina ❤