Good update: Gtown water no longer has ecoli in it, or at least this is what the media and the University officials say. For all I know, I could be drinking donkey pee.
Here’s a nice get-rich-tip from Marty: Start a water purification company, move to Grahamstown, I’ll send you my people, you’ll be rich in a week, then you’ll take over the world, then I’ll marry you.
In socioeconomics, we call this a win-win situation.
In Gtown, we call it a hellz-yeah-awesomeness.
We are all still dying of heat, which means that sharing a single bed becomes incredibly uncomfortable, because all you’re thinking is OMG STOP TOUCHING ME, YOUR TOUCH IS BAD BAD FIRE AND I’M MELTING OH GOD GLOBAL WARMING IS ON MY FACE.
Not that this kind of thing happens under my roof.
What has been happening under my roof, is much domestic happiness.
While I’m still loving going to shows, dancing and laughing til the early hours of the morning, more and more I want to TALK with my friends, to know who they really are, and where they’re at.
Varsity years are upheaval years – a week could go by and your religious homosexual friend could turn into an atheist heterosexual polygamist with six wives, or wifes, in Italian panties.
So I’ve been having lots of people over for lunch, dinner, coffee, ice cubes on face to prevent heat-stroke…
I’m loving the cooking, whether I’m preparing a meal with someone (my friend C and I have a mutual obsession with mushrooms), or whipping up a surprise meal for someone else (residence students are so easy to please. Voilà, something not drenched in recycled oil!!).
And among the cooking and eating, connections are made, stories are shared, in such a comfortable and open setting, better than yelling over 100 people at a pub, much more meaningful than the HUNDREDS of heyhowareyoufineandyous I say daily.
More and more I’m realising (and my friends with me) who the real friends are, who is worth pursuing, and who we should just let go of. This isn’t a love/hate process. It’s more about realising that we cannot be best friends with everyone, and if we do try to be, we’re just going to be end up being fake and shallow. Fake, because let’s be honest, no one likes everyone! And shallow because, at least in my kinda life, you don’t have time to make meaningful bonds with a hundred people, and maintain them all.
I am so tired of people who pretend they are my soulmates, who claim they have a right to know anything about me, who think my life revolves around theirs.
And I’m so tired of not having time for the people I really care about!
So din-dins is my way of showing I really care, enough to stand half-naked in front of the stove and watch my face melt into the pot as I cook you some pasta, while my flat reaches the temperature of my car’s exhaust pipe.
Side-note framed with branches and twigs, with a flannel shirt for a background:
You’re so gorgeous and you don’t even know it, you make me so glad, I clap my hands just to show it… (Life of Riley lyrics)