The end of another week, more films than is natural, more gaming than I should have, far too much sugar, and the usual day to day adversity that one encounters.
R 41 for bread and milk.
That, perhaps, is the thought that has stayed with me the most this entire week. I recall my father buying the newspaper, a loaf of bread, and a litre of milk for a couple of Rand back in the day.
I paid R41 for a loaf of bread and a 2 litre milk. Sure, the bread is low GI fair, and cost R 17, but still… It’s R 0.50 for a plastic packet these days. What the hell. Sure, I could have purchased a loaf of in house brown bread for R9, and a litre of milk in a plastic bag for R10. It just really seems to have gotten out of hand.
That we use about 14 litres of milk (or more) in our household each week means we spend upwards of R 150 just on milk. Every week. The majority goes into my better half’s baking, and her coffee.
R 17 for a loaf of low GI bread. You can pay R 40 for a load of rye (and it’s a small loaf).
We’ve survived the first ten days of September, and the blur that is life hastens on. More time spent thinking in the shower than at any other time. I do not mean the casual, usual thought processes of day to day living and work, but the thoughts gone deep. Sent far beneath the surface into the near-arcane.
Contemplations of spirituality and the disregard for the status-quo, rather to delve deeper into meta-analytics of the self and others. The role of the person against all other people. Government, the servant of the people…
That came from a comment about drivers licences (of all things). One of our esteemed and honourable ministers stated that a driver’s licence always belongs to the government. I found it ironic, and morbidly amusing. Of course the licence belongs to the government, it is issued by them, and we, the people, pay dearly for it (and continue to pay every five year cycle). However, is the government not an organ of the people? Is it not a servant of the people, paid for by the people. Does not all that which the government owns belong to the people? Ergo, does the driver’s licences not belong to the people.
I shouldn’t be left alone to muse on such things. There lie dragons.
Speaking of which, watched The Dark Crystal for the first time in my memorable life (I may have watched it as a child, but I do not recall). What a fantastic film for its time. The damned thing is thirty five! Still, the editing I found was superb (simply in order to keep the suspension of disbelief, we are watching puppets here), the story wrought with adventure and fantasy. Not one that relies so heavily of big explosions and boobs. The whole thing is made of puppets, and they are excellent.
In a couple of years my boy is going to high school, then tertiary education. I am suitably shitting myself. It’s going to be expensive, but it has been such a remarkable journey. He’s not a little boy any more. He’s on the cusp of teenagedom, and already there are more moments where he resembles a young man that a little boy. It makes me feel old. And so very proud.
His karate has come a long, long way. From that child who had floppy legs and arms. Used to fall down (I still think he thinks falling on his face is funny), and simply didn’t seem to take it seriously.
Now his kata has improved, his kicks, while not perfect, have come a long way. All in all there has been great improvement. He was involved in his first demo this last Saturday. For all of two minutes, but he did himself proud. For that I am thankful.
My better half – she is on the cusp of greatness. There’s so much opportunity before her and we’re working hard to ensure she gets there. I do not think it will be long before you will be able to purchase Cake Serendipity Cupcakes and Brownies at a retail store. We’re also looking into mass production of, of all things, butter cream icing in various flavours. Then there’s the lessons.
Yet that brings us to the question of energy, the vast amounts of it required to ensure that we can keep on going. Keep on achieving. I often sit back, exhausted from the day, wondering how in the hell our parents ever managed it.
There are seven and a bit weeks until NaNoWriMo kicks off and I start growing fuzz on my top lip.
For NaNoWriMo I have advanced: I am no a co-ML for Port Elizabeth (first year) and will work towards bringing in more writers this year. I will also look to raise about USD 100 from the writers that I bring on board. My target is to write the second half of the story I wrote in 2015 (2016 was a bust, but will possibly be completed in 2018). I should have around 110,000 words of story by the end of November. I already have 51K words, and will look at editing and revising to around 55K by the 1st of November. My target will then be to write the remaining 55K by the end of November. Spend December and January editing for a distribution to personal friends by the end of February. If they say it is sufficient, then boom! Novel!
For Movember this year, I am aiming to raise about R 5,000. Which is about 50% more than last year. I have this firm sense that this year I will hit that target, and I’ll be very proud of myself, and humbled by the generosity of friends and family, should I achieve it.
For now, however, there is this post, which has been meandering and loopy. Such is the path of the verbose who have not written for a very long time. My thoughts are chaos, but within that chaos, lies order waiting for a tether on which to build.
As I keep telling my boy; the more you practice something, the easier it becomes.
Peace, serenity, calm,