Seems to be a lot of young people named Taylor *crosses name off the list*
Sometimes people just don’t get me… or they don’t understand why the things in my life are the way they are. Or why I like/do certain things. So most of the time, I have to explain myself to people (because people — simple, simple people — expect everything in the world to be just linear. Especially when it comes to names. White people (especially in South Africa), stand up. You are guilty of this a lot. You butcher the most simple African names, put non-existent accents on the vowels, try your hand at messing up how the consonants are pronounced. And one thing a friend of mine pointed out, you LOVE to put smooth r’s where they don’t even belong. For example, my surname “Makatu” falls victim to your English ways: mah-kah-tuu becomes mar-car-too.
I’ve met a lot of people with very interesting names and have (I have!) wondered why they were given those names. Nobody can give their child a name just because “ooh it sounds so nice and unique!”. Unfortunately, there are those that do, names that may have no meaning at all or have a meaning that isn’t so positive. On the other hand, there are people who give their children names that are just downright EMBARRASSING. Naming your son Humphrey in this day can cause some problems, and don’t be surprised when your son doesn’t become Homecoming King.
I believe in bestowing names upon children that has positive meanings and “just seem right” so that the kids can go out and be the kind of people that their names stand for. Or giving your baby girl or boy a name that describes how you feel having him/her in your life. I’m yet to have a baby, but I have a reserve of names (for both sexes) that I can look to when the time comes.
I’ll be talking about the issues that come up when I introduce myself to a stranger and they ask me what my real name is because “Chilli” is not realistic. Also, I delve into the small tidbits about the names of my family members, and the way me and my sisters have had to appease our multi-cultural classmates and acquaintances all the while never losing meaning of our names. Continue reading
English: NYC signing September 1, 2009 at Nintendo Store – New York City, USA (Photo credit: Wikipedia)
I’m about to make some people mad here. But I left all my fucks behind in Paris when I came back to start the new semester, so…
Beyhive, Navy, Barbs, Beliebers, Directioners, Lovatics, Team Breezy, whatever, read up. From one music lover to another, let’s get some thangs straight. But first let me introduce myself.
My name is Chilli. I love music like nothing else. I luhhhh it! I’m continuously seeking out new music I’ve not let my ears experience before, and I always know when I’ve come across a good thing. I have an iPod which serves a great purpose to me everyday, and it’s to fill my life with beautiful sound. I also have Panasonic headphones that make sure I can feel every lilt and “boom” in the beat, and all the curves of the artists’ voices.
However, like most of you “stans”, I do not have a “fave”. But there are many artists that I equally like and fawn over because of their artistic genius. No matter how much I love Frank Ocean, Emeli Sandé or Emalkay (dubstep producer), I cannot, I just CANNOT worship them. I’m not very good at giving my all to one person, and throwing myself down to the floor in praise of them. And honestly, I don’t think the people whose music I love to listen to would want me to waste my time loving them, all the while forgetting about my own life. Continue reading
Been allergic circa. forever.
I’m fed up with the state of the world. One of these days I’d like to just scream out loud until my frustration is gone, but then I don’t want security guards or my neighbours rushing to my room thinking I’m in trouble. I think some people who might look through here and think “what a moaner! Doesn’t anything happy ever happen to you?” Actually, I do have good times, but those are not enough to crack my fingers out for a post.
And don’t people like reading sombre news anyway?
Never in the past five years before 2012 had I seen so many stories of rape come out of the woodwork. Like there was a point that almost every week, there was a new report of women being gang-raped by men in some part of the world. The United States (Steuben-flipping-ville), South Africa (Anene Booysen, to name one victim), South America (a group of female tourists were kidnapped then assaulted over a couple of days by some local men) and… sigh… India.
About 3 years ago, out came a song to the world from Wiz Khalifa, proclaiming admiration for two particular colours: black and yellow. In the chorus, he rapped about “stunting” (“when I pull up the lot, that’s stuntin’”).
Hmm… here these hip hop guys go again, using their own secret codewords and misconstruing the meanings of words, what does he mean? Because before this song, the only thing I knew about the word “stunt” was that it stood for something that celebrities did or said as a way to boost their fame, to make themselves relevant (i.e. publicity stunt). So over the years, without needing to go to Urban Dictionary to find the street meaning of “stunting” or “stuntin’” (if you don’t believe in completing present participles), I understood what it meant.
In layman’s terms, to stunt is to show off all that you got, ball out and just spend your mons. Do whatever necessary to let the people know you have money and a lot of it.
Well… I don’t have a lot of money nor am I entitled to it. When I was three quarters my age, I wondered about how much I’m worth, and I estimated it to be a couple of rands. Never you mind, I didn’t think much of myself then.Anyway, the point is, I have an alternative definition of “stunting”. To me, it means “to have a freaking damn good time, any way, any how”. And I always make sure I have fun at little or no cost. I’m very reluctant to spend money to have a great night out. Because with this allowance of mine, every rand matters and I work on an opportunity-cost basis when deciding what I can buy and what is a waste.
A few Italian restaurants, a Chinese restaurant, a French brasserie, a Brazilian “palace” of food and music, a little Japanese kiosk/cafe, some fast food joints, a few nights in with often less-than-satisfactory room service, and of course the daily rendezvous in hotel dining halls. For something like 30 days, I’ve had the best experience with food ever! Not like I had any foodie moments, but I did enjoy eating food during that time for two reasons: it was absolutely delicious and my mum or I didn’t have to cook it. Not to say my mum is a bad cook, but it is so much nicer to eat food that you didn’t sweat over.
My parents and my sisters are the best people I’ve had the pleasure of eating out with. Something new always comes out of every night out, and we never spend the meal in silence.
It first started with when our flight to Paris last December got delayed, so Air France — for their trouble put us up at the Southern Sun by the airport. I really have one of my mum’s friends to thank because she sought out the Air France staff and demanded them to give us rooms. Then the news of the delay and offer of free accommodation (with breakfast, lunch and dinner! :D) just trickled down to all the other frustrated passengers.
My family has six people (parents, me and my three younger sisters), we got three rooms. I don’t really think the extra room was necessary because us girls’ rooms had two double beds in them, and (since we’re not total fatties) two sisters could have shared one bed. But hey, Air France was paying, I ain’t complaining! Continue reading