I honestly did. Pwomise…
But I had my life to deal in the past 10 months so I had to take a step back. It’s been too long that I was away. But hey, I’m back now and I will try to stay this time. I promise…
I can’t exactly say why I was absent but it is nothing to be worried about. I just hope the time will come when I’ll be able to share it with you. Unfortunately, there won’t be any posts today about anything because assignments are a bitch and failure is not an option in these academic streets. But next weekend, I will come with something new.
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.