Tania.co.za

Some of the better things about last night

The "better things" being Neil, Jaco and Aubrey. :-) Jeremy and Conrad weren't there. :-( But I darem got to meet Henk in person. :-) The waitress brought me the wrong food so I got two meals. :-) Someone told me his partner was about to launch a defamation campaign against those to whom I am allied. :-( I need to go now. Got a class to teach. And I didn't get much sleep... Apologies to the Wizard of Oz for falling asleep in the middle of the conversatiozzzzz...

Yay

I went to bed last night at about three in a state of great happiness. The reasons are quite philosophical, but they centre around a very, very, very nice day. Inter alia, I swam in the sea for the first time in probably more than a decade. Christopher took me and Sparrows and Elke and her friend Regina to an amazing beach.

Don't I just look so chuffed! You'd think I was an advertisement for an energy supplement!

When midnight came, and with a slightly changed crowd (minus Christopher, plus Roelof) we celebrated Elke's birthday with sparkling wine and went clubbing. I made this temporary tattoo for Elke. I also made a bigger, more masculine one for Sparrows. To my subtle amusement, he described as "hardcore" — a hitherto unused adjective for anything I have created!



There are plenty of other stories to tell, and more importantly, lessons learned, but no time to tell them now, and probably not this week either.

End-of-the week snippets

While I wait for my ghostwriter to try to get his head around the notion of being 41 years old and female, an update on recent news:

My Flickr account has maxed out on me! I will have to upgrade or delete some photos. Here's a pic of me... well, of my shadow, taken during a recent site visit, with a Channel Kerb seen at my head-level. This is the first time ever I pitched up at a paving site wearing exactly the right clothes: thick-soled shoes which don't mind the dirt, an appropriate cap and sunglasses, and camo, from top to bottom. Now that camo is about to go out of fashion, I finally found a pair of camo pants that I really like, in the men's department at Trader's Warehouse, opposite CNdV Africa's office where Marius went for a meeting with Tanya the other day. (Camo is good for this kind of thing. Nobody would know how just how dusty I am now unless they shook me in a sieve.)

Ghostwriter

Ek het onlangs die voorreg gehad om een van my Internethelde in lewende lywe te ontmoet. Intussen het ons nou al heelwat gekuier, maar hy sê vir my dat my offline-karakter nie juis na vore kom in my Internetdagboek nie. Ek vra toe vir hom om my volgende inskrywing namens my te skryf — in die eerste persoon, asof ek self praat. Hy het die opdrag aanvaar, maar met voorwaardes: Ek moet die onderwerp verskaf, en hy mag my dalk ook vra om namens hom te skrywe.

My volgende inskrywing sal dus deur 'n ghostwriter gedoen word. Hy mag enigiets wat ek in enige medium vir hom gesê het, sê. Hy mag ook enigiets of alles van enige en alle situasies wat ons al saam beleef het, vertel.

Does growing up as a nerd that mean that by 2007 you can qualify as a geek?

Defining my geekiness

Hey, I am chuffed. Following a link provided by Henk Kleynhans at the 27 Dinner wiki, I did the geek test again today but had more time, and this time I scored over 25%, which qualifies me as a total geek! It is quite unbelievable, in a way, because I don't know Perl, Java or CGI, and I prefer my computer with the cover on.

I cheated in one thing, though. Those questions about watching Star Trek and other purportedly geeky shows regularly... it isn't true. I used to watch them all the time, but I don't have a TV anymore. I listen to audiobooks now.

I also think that playing the chromatic harmonica should count the same as playing the accordion. (And any really enormous brass instrument, like a tuba or suzaphone should also count.) So I lost points because although I play several instruments, they only added bonus points for the accordion, and I don't play that.

My nerdy youth

That test makes me feel quite sentimental, though. Trivial Pursuit parties, and whole days of watching Star Wars videos in succession... I wonder if I ever dated a true geek... I am trying to think now. I certainly never dated anyone mainstream, except maybe for that second lieutenant when I was 16, but I wasn't really in love with him. When I was young, you didn't have geeks, you had nerds. Nerds were just like geeks in every respect, except that computers wheren't so prevalent in those days, so these things manifested themselves differently. I dated the president of the Strategy Games Club when I was at school in Connecticut. I wonder if that counts. And George was my best friend, but I didn't date him. He made it into MIT and taught me rudimentary calculus, and introduced me to Goedel Escher Bach, and to the notion of multi-dimensionality. The other guys in our clique all went into unusual professions. Steve became a rocket scientist during Ronald Reagan's Star Wars era. I wonder if that was all an illusion, as they now claim, and if so, what did Steve really do for a living?

Oh yes, I forgot, I dated Christopher King in standard nine! He was a proper geek. He was even into computers in the days when it was rare to have touched a computer.

And Bladerunner is indeed my favourite film. I even own the soundtrack, which was ordered specially for me. I never really thought about it being a geek film before, though. Although the fact that George introduced me to the film probably should tell me something...

I was always rather ashamed of the fact that I wasn't really into chess at school, because if you got the highest marks in class you were supposed to be into chess as well. But I have really repented. I play chess regularly now. In fact, I don't think I have turned down a game during the past two years.

Geek socials

I sometimes fear that Geek Dinners may be losing their geekiness. They are so glitzy nowadays. Although I cook healthy food normally, my notion of a geek dinner would involve really unhealthy food, like pizza or hamburgers. And these dinners would be held at a rambling old house, and people would lie about on the floor or on whatever furnishings they could find. There would be lots of games, like poker and Blackjack (playing with matches or beans), and chess, and Trivial Pursuit, and the highlight would be playing games which are invented right there. In fact, a geek dinner is not a good idea. It should be a geek weekend. Or a geek week! Imagine what could happen if we had a geek week! Some of us would learn new languages; some would invent new languages and speak them as a kind of insider dialect for years afterwards; some would build musical instruments out of household items, and everyone would get fatter.

Now why can't we go back to that...?

Geek girls

I have also been thinking about what it means to be a geek girl (or a nerd girl, which would perhaps be more appropriate in my instance). When it comes to fashion, geek girls always get something wrong. They are seldom negligent about clothing, and while they do not necessarily dress in a conservative way, those that aspire to being noticed usually exercise an inappropriate ecclecticism. They may have the right pants, but they will wear them with the wrong shoes. (Court shoes with cargo pants would be extreme, but you get the idea.) They may like rock music, but they won't be able to name more than two rock bands, and one of those rock bands will actually be a reggae band. They may even use the latest vocabulary, like "dude" and "hang out" and "chill", but then they will combine it with obscure words like "reciprocate" (well, I didn't think it was obscure, but it freaked Roelof out). Nerd girls may make their own jewellery, but it won't be something that you could sell, because no-one else would want something like that.

Nerd girls really, really, really want to be popular and fit in, but they would never admit it. And if they ever get close to reaching that goal, they get so confused about their identity that they start falling apart.

The cost of dying

If living is expensive, dying is certainly not all that much cheaper. Carol's entire disability pension for February (her first ever payment) was consumed by two packets of pills. That leaves nothing for food or for the other treatments which she needs just to be able to meet death in a less horrible way. The doctor she saw at Stellenbosch hospital last night said that the people who treated her before had been negligent in monitoring her, and as a result of side-effects her stomach lining has disintegrated, and her hip-bone is crumbling. I took her to Tygerberg this morning for chemotherapy. She is starting to suspect that she may have cancer in addition to everything else, but nobody tells her much. I am fetching her again later because Stellenbosch hospital is cheaper if you have to stay overnight, although she says they don't have people there who can help you to wash, and they don't have a shower, so she starts bleeding more easily there because she has to bend over in order to wash herself. I have to give her more money now, because they have to put some kind of pipe down her throat to get the blood out of her stomach.

Weekend

It was a good one.

I was dead tired after going out with my parents on Saturday evening, but decided to drive home to sleep at my flat so that I could be there to start cleaning as soon as I woke up, and then probably go off to work sometime. But just so that it would feel like a weekend, I stopped in at Die Mystic Boer for a cup of coffee... and ran into my neighbour and his buddy, and the man who did my henna tattoo two years ago, and the guy with whom I had played fussbol a couple of weeks ago... so I ended up staying till nearly three o'clock, eventually having a great time and dancing on the chairs!

Suddenly, though, I had a feeling of dissonance, as and many people were quite drunk, and the opening lines of Ecclesiastes came to mind, and I felt sorry for the people who were drinking because they were not happy, and for those who were messing up their bodies by smoking so much. (I had been part of the vibe until then because, although I'm not into "substances", I get into a very pleasant semi-hypnotised state when I am tired and dancing.) So I decided to leave the bar while life was still quite rosy, and the fussbol guy and his mate walked me to my car.

The next day I woke up far too early, but got up anyway, cleaned up, washed up, took money to Carol so that she could pay some medical expenses, bought onions and came home and rested. As Christopher pointed out to me a week or two ago, I shouldn't be so surprised — or feel so guilty — about my desire for rest on the weekend; God himself nogal thought it was necessary and indeed commanded a day of rest. I also reassured myself that by resting properly, I would become more productive this week.

I had begun to notice over the past few weeks that I was turning into a shameless gossip, so in the afternoon I got out the Bible so that I could install the relevant anti-virus program (Ephesians 4–5) into my mind. (I am even thinking about removing some of the recent entries to this diary...) There was plenty of other stuff in the book (I ended up reading the whole of Ephesians) that was relevant to me too, but I didn't feel ready to face it all in one sitting. I have been so busy for the past few weeks that I had not taken the time to just think. In my solitude, I now also realised how often my interaction with certain friends is driven by an almost pathological need for reassurance; so I decided to repent of it by training myself to focus instead on reassuring other insecure people. I felt much happier (and freer) for that decision.

I was about to go to bed when Mikhailo phoned to tell me that his mother had died. He said I needn't come over, but I did anyway, and we phoned Borys...

Gisteraand

At last I won a game of chess against the Wizard of Oz. It wasn't completely satisfying, because I would ascribe my victory to two negligent mistakes that he made, rather than to a superior strategy on my part. But I won anyway. So I am backkkkkk!

Leeu het tydens ons spel aangekom want hy het sy motorsleutels verloor en sy broek was besig om af te val en hy het later die aand 'n afspraak met Die Girl gehad (sien, ek kom mooi reg, ek sê nie meer "meisie" nie), en ek werk toe vir hom die knopie aan — wat my nogal trots laat voel het, want dit is 'n knopie sonder knoopsgate, en ek is nie baie goed met naaldwerk nie. Na die tyd het ek nou die aand se belofte aan Lelie nagekom, en ek en die Wizard of Oz is toe saam met haar en so stuk of vyf van die ander bure Rustic toe. Lelie en die ander was voor hulle daar aangekom het al 'n effens aangeklam. Ek dink Bees was onbewus van die feit dat ek en hy nie besig was met 'n intelligente gesprek nie. (Die Wizard of Oz het opsy nogal 'n astute observation gemaak, naamlik dat om snert te praat eintlik net suksesvol vermaak verskaf as al die betrokke partye besef hulle praat snert.) Toe ek my digitale kamera uithaal het Bees vir my hierdie mean lecture gegee daaroor dat hy nie foto's van hom laat neem nie (nie dat ek die lecture nodig gehad het nie, ek kan so 'n versoek respekteer), maar vyf minute later het hy sy hele lewensfilosofie verander en self van hom en die "seriously hot" Lelie (sy woorde, behalwe hy het "&%$#@" gesê in plaas van "seriously") 'n foto geneem, dus plaas ek dit nou hier sonder 'n wesenlike skuldgevoel oor die skending van sy privaatheid...

The funny Googles that bring people to my blog

Other bloggers have reported the same strange phenomenon — you wonder why you get picked as an authority on that subject. It's like the improbability drive in the Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy: They could have gone anywhere, but they ended up on your site. Here you have it, thanks to my built-in Google tracker — Some of the people who have searched Google during the past two weeks have ended up at my blog by using the following search terms:

There's a good reason why I have decided to put this into image files. As you can imagine, I don't want to become an overly popular destination for some of these terms!

Baldy rides again

Laurence's blog is back online.

Gisteraand toe ek met die Wizard of Oz gesit en skaak speel het

As 'n mens 'n openbare dagboek skryf, is daar altyd 'n mate van selfsensuur. Sommige van my vriende weet nie dat ek hier skryf oor hulle nie. Sommiges weet dit wel, en dit gee soms (veral die afgelope twee weke) 'n eienaardige (maar nie onaangename) dinamika aan die vriendskap. Daar is selfs een vriend wat ek glad nie by name mag noem nie omdat hy 'n soort dwangarbeid verrig by 'n bisarre plek, en hy is bang vir wat "hulle" aan hom kan doen as hulle te veel van hom weet. Ten einde myself en die betrokke persone te beskerm, gaan ek vandag almal na wie ek verwys, se name verander. Die gebeure is egter waar.

Gisteraand toe ek met die Wizard of Oz gesit en skaak speel het, toe kom Lelie daar verby op pad na Viooltjie se woonstel toe (ek het die twee aan mekaar voorgestel). Ek het vir Lelie ontmoet die dag nadat sy in Suid-Afrika aangeland het, en toevallig kon ek haar huistaal praat, wat nogal nuttig was, want sy was eensaam en miserable. Intussen het ek haar aan Leeu voorgestel; en Leeu het ook darem vir Viooltjie op die trappe ontmoet en vir haar gehelp met haar bagasie (ek wou hulle die vorige dag al aan mekaar voorstel, maar Viooltjie was al in die bed); en Leeu het ook toevallig onlangs sy buurman Bees goed geleer ken; en volgens Lelie loop sy gereeld vir Leeu saam met Bees raak, want Bees se beste vriend het 'n crush op Lelie se woonstelmaat. Nou ja, ek vra toe vir Lelie hoe dit gaan. Nee, baie sleg, sê sy. Hoekom? vra ek — en soos ons gesels wonder ek hoeveel Annertaal die Wizard of Oz kan verstaan; maar dit lyk nie of Lelie one way or the other omgee nie. Ek het verlief geraak, sê Lelie. Dis verskriklik! antwoord ek. Ek weet, sê Lelie skaam. (Sien, Lelie gaan al die afgelope vier jaar vas uit. Sy woon al by hom vandat sy vyftien is. En dié kêrel is nog in Annerland. So nou is alles skielik baie complicated.) Ek het gister nie eers gaan werk nie, sê Lelie, omdat ek so deurmekaar was. O aarde, sê ek, en ek kan nie eers vir jou goeie raad gee oor wat om te doen nie. Ek en Lelie spreek af om die een of ander tyd dié naweek saam uit te gaan Bohemia toe of iets. Ek het haar nog nie eers vertel van die weird gesprekke wat ek tydens my surrealistiese Vrydagaand daar gehad het nie. Oor die naweek het Akkedis se boyfriend met haar uitgemaak, blykbaar op 'n baie onbeskofte wyse, deur haar oor die vloer te smyt in hulle gunstelingkroeg, en dit voor al hulle pelle. Vandag sê Akkedis vir my hy sê nee, hulle gaan nog uit, hy wil net nie meer saamwoon nie. Nou moet sy weer terugtrek na ons gebou, want dis die billikste; maar Leeu het verlede jaar in haar woonstel ingetrek en sy sal nou 'n ander een moet kry. Intussen is Leeu verlief op 'n meisie wat hy sowat twee weke gelede ontmoet het. Dit voel baie stupid, sê hy. Dit voel altyd stupid, sê ek. Eintlik het Leeu vir my gesê mens praat nie meer van 'n meisie nie, behalwe as jou pa vir jou vra, Is die meisie darem al uit die skool? Mens praat nou van 'n girl. Dus moet ek nie so vies wees vir Jacques Botha omdat hy my 'n girl genoem het nie, miskien wel omdat hy my 'n lekker girl genoem het, want lekker girls suip baie op paarties en trek hulle klere uit, en ek doen nie sulke dinge nie. O ja, ek het vergeet, ek is veronderstel om nie mense se regte name te gebruik nie. Vervang dus Jacques Botha met Dr. Evil. Dis wat Kosie se dogter Ella vir hom noem. Vervang ook Kosie met Jack, en Ella met Dakota Fanning. Ek het nie tyd om nou hierdie storie klaar te skryf nie. Ek moet nou werk.

Ma word 70

Ek en Ma en tannie Rita by La Petite Ferme. Oom Doug het baie mooi bestuur soontoe. Ek is baie bly dat hy en tannie Rita saamgegaan het vir die viering, want anders sou Pa wou bestuur.

Dit was 'n mooi dag. Ek het die hele dag afgevat by die werk sodat ek eers vir Ma 'n halssnoer kon gaan aanmekaarsit van Swarowski-kristalle en donkerrooi pêrels, en toe betyds saam met hulle kon gaan Franschhoek toe. Baie van die bure het ingeloer en mense het gebel toe ons terugkom by die huis.

Hierdie foto is net om te wys dat Ma se ken nie regtig so groot is soos dit in die boonste een voorkom nie. Jammer, tannie Rita, dat jy hierbo lyk asof jy driehonderd jaar oud is, maar die jpeg optimisation het jou so verouder.

Valentine's Day

I have never had a proper Valentine's Day. One day in the future, if God grants me the mercy, I am going to have a glorious, complete, soppy (but entirely heartfelt) socially and commercially conventional (yet slightly tweaked to personal preferences) Valentine's Day. I will write a card to the man I love and receive one in return. We will have flowers bought from a flower-seller: deep yellow or dark pink roses. There will be chocolate in a heart-shaped box. We will exchange gifts wrapped with extravagant bows. We will look into each other's eyes. We will go out to a place which in the interest of financial gain but with at least a remnant of belief in what they are doing, has taken the effort to lay on the romance nice and thick — candle-light, and dancing, or a violin trio, or some such elements of soft-focus atmosphere. We will pledge our love in extravagant hyperbole, with tears and smiles, and we will mean it.

Anglisaans

O, dis nou vrolik... ek het lanklaas so gelag dat ek huil... hier is die wonderlike Webblad wat my vanmiddag soveel genot verskaf het...

Brand recognition

A while ago I received a letter in the mail asking me why for some time I hadn't shopped at a particular fashion chain where I have an account. So I wrote a longish letter to Foschini, giving them all my reasons, and submitted it at their Web site. Although this wasn't really one of the reasons, I also mentioned to them, for what it may be worth, that I sometimes struggle to distinguish between the Truworths and Foschini brands.

A few days later, I found the letter which had solicited my reply. Only, the letter wasn't from Foschini. It was from Truworths! Blush... kinda proves the point, don't you think?

Skaak

Van November af het ek, sover ek kan onthou, altesaam viermaal skaak gespeel: teen Chrizette, Marinus, Christopher en Sparrows; en ek het elke keer verloor. Now if you are a boxer, and that happens, you know it's time to retire. For me, it is a sign that I need to un-retire.

Picture from a surreal evening

It's Friday the 9th and I am jealous of...

...all of you, because I am going to be working through the weekend!

Prentjies van die rock-konsert by die Maties se Jool

Ek het nou nie tyd om behoorlik te blog nie. Die patent waaraan ek en Mikhailo werk is 'n quagmire. Ons werk dag en nag. Ek plaas dus maar 'n paar prentjies wat ek verlede Saterdag op die Braak geneem het.



Sparrows is mos nou 'n Matie...

Hierdie twee persone het voor ons gestaan en 'n filosofiese gesprek aangekoop.

Hierdie vent het baie hard probeer om op TV te verskyn. Ek het vir hom gesê ek is 'n joernalis en aangebied om hom beroemd te maak deur sy foto op die Internet te plaas. Hy't gesê hy het 'n band met die naam Nougat, en dat dit nie op die Franse manier uitgespreek moet word nie.

The murder in Stellenbosch last Thursday night

"OK, Robbie, I found out some more about that murder you told me about, and it wasn't a bar-room fight that went wrong."

"Oh, so it was just a story, then?"

"No, really did happen, I just don't know if it was with a plank or not, but it wasn't directly outside Springbok, it was at the BP across the road. I found out about it because Roelof — you know, the drummer? — he went there with a friend with a friend to get pies from the garage, and the ambulance had just taken away the body. What happened was, a guy crashed into another guy. I think he had just put in petrol and he was backing out, and then he crashed into a car that was coming in. The guy whose car he hit then got out and pulled him out of his car and hit him over and over until he died in a pool of his own blood. Roelof said he saw the pool of blood in the shape of the guy's body. The guy who died was a young white guy, and the one who killed him was an older white guy. Someone said he was a bouncer at Springbok, but I don't know if that is true. The guys who saw it happen were very rattled. They couldn't believe that someone could do something like that, because if you just lose your temper, as sometimes happens in a case like this, you would just punch a guy once and then afterwards think, 'Oh dear, I shouldn't really have done that'; but this was particularly brutal, because he just carried on and on."

"He must have been mal then."

"I don't know. I suppose."

"What happened then, did he leave or the police take him away?"

"I don't know. There were no police when Roelof arrived, only the two ambulances."

My pretty app

My colleague Andrew recently complimented me on the Courier application which I made for Pavatile. The nice thing about the compliment was that I had forgotten about the application. After I demo'd it to all the users they simply went off and started using it the next day, and I didn't hear anything more about it, which meant that there wasn't anything which irked them. (It's quite a simple Notes database; no agents, no LotusScript, just @Formula language; one hidden view and a profile document for lookups; it sends mail notifications with doclinks to the trip requestor or trips co-ordinator; you can specify a preceding trip, and that's about it.) I was quite chuffed to find that they had been using it every day since I gave it to them.

Hoekom ek ge-strip het

Ek wou hê jy moes my verstaan,
maar my hart en gedagtes was geklee
in woorde van die verkeerde snit en kleur en grootte.

Ek wou die woorde uittrek
sodat jy my hart en gedagtes kon sien,
kaal en eerlik en waar.

Maar ek pluk toe die verkeerde klere af
en daar staan ek met my kaal lyf voor jou.

Toe verstaan jy my selfs nog minder.

Wiel

Ek het so pas vir die eerste keer in my lewe sonder die teenwoordigheid van 'n man 'n wiel omgeruil. In spite of the fact that my biceps rival those of Madonna, my arms were not strong enough to undo the overtightened bolts, so I had to stand on the spanner and bounce up and down. I got my hands very dirty and felt entirely chuffed with myself, until I was defeated on the last stretch: for the life of me, I couldn't get the hub-cap back on! (Why do they add these silly aesthetic features to cars anyway? A purely mechanical, safe and ergonomic vehicle would be quite satisfactory.)

Aandag: Stellenbosse bloggers

My CD-partytjie verskuif omdat Marisa dit nie hierdie naweek kan bywoon nie. Dit word vervang deur 'n verwelkomingspartytjie vir die bekende Internetpersoonlikheid Sparrows, wat hierdie jaar 'n Matie word. As jy 'n blogger is en jy woon op Stellenbosch, dan word jy nou genooi.

Saterdag is ook jool op Stellenbosch en daar is 'n hele line-up van bands wat van die oggend af op die Braak gaan speel. (Die vlotoptog vind ook natuurlik in die oggend plaas.) Die agenda neem dus hierdie verrigtinge in ag:

18:00 Ons eet by my woonstel. Ek verskaf die kos. (Vegetariërs laat weet asb vooraf.) As jy goeie wyn wil hê, dan moet jy dit self bring, want ek drink nie self wyn nie, dus het ek net slegte goedkoop wyn van Barrydale waarmee ek kosmaak. Daar is egter baie daarvan, dus kan jy dit drink as jy te snoep of te arm is om jou eie te bring. En dink ek het nog net twee biere in die kas (ek drink ook nie bier nie), so the bottom line is, if you don't like the drinks on offer, bring your own. Basiese huisreëls: (1) Jy moet nugter wees wanneer jy aankom. (2) Jy moet jou skoene uittrek. (As jy reeds kaalvoet is wanneer jy aankom, gaan jy 'n voetbad moet ondergaan.)

19:30 Ons vaar die dorp in. Afhangende van hoe platsak almal is, of waarvoor almal lus is, gaan ons of koffie drink, of ons gaan na die Braak toe, en daarna na Mystic, as daar asemhalingsruimte is.

As jy wil kom, stuur asseblief vir my jou besonderhede sodat ek met jou in verbinding kan tree. Ek gaan nie more op die Internet wees nie, dus het ek so gou as moontlik almal se besonderhede nodig. My woonstel is klein; ek kan net 10 persone akkommodeer.