You Only Live

Some one close to me died today.

He was only 24.

When I read the news in a whatsapp message from my sister, all I though was ‘I am not surprised . At least he can stop running now’.

May his Soul Rest in Peace

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SOCIAL CONTRACT: terms and conditions apply

What do you do when the world doesn’t make sense anymore?

Plus, you know the last rebel without a cause died in a car crash in 1955, which is like sixty years ago.

Well, you write a blog post.james-dean

There have been a lot of expectations in my life: from parents, grandparents, friends, society and let’s not forget my spiritual guides ( pastor and imam .. depending on the stage of my life and which parent had greater influence).

‘You should be a Doctor’, ‘You should start your own business’, ‘wear more dresses’, ‘I think you should apply for this’ and my personal favourite ‘you should get your masters’.

Expectations make me itchy, claustrophobic… the only expectation I expect people to expect from me is the unexpected.

James Dean died in a car crash, in his thirties, at the peak of his career (oh the tragedy!) but if that’s the destiny I have chosen for myself then, fine.

I mean ‘Dream as if you’ll live forever. Live as if you’ll die today’ speaks to me more that ‘don’t rock the boat’.Rebel-wallpapers-rebel-without-a-cause-13219350-1440-900So yes, sometimes I will wake up early, drive around aimlessly and get to work late. The boss can frown and caution about how ‘leaders should set the example’ but those forty minutes of going nowhere and observing the marvel that is life, something as simple as seeing a child brushing their teeth over a gutter, keeps me grounded.

I always say no one is born into the world, clutching the pen they will use to sign a social contract.

Also the first gift God gave to man is free will, the ability to choose. Which is why the tree of knowledge was not surrounded by an electric fence.

But I have a child now, so you know those terms and conditions that I threw away?maxresdefaultWell I am elbow deep in the trash, searching for the crumpled paper, desperately smoothing out scraps I find and cringing to myself when I tell her to ‘sit like a lady’ or asking her to edit comments of unvarnished truths.

Its no longer me against the world, a la Tupac Shakur.

My daughter needs an introduction to the world, and I must find a way of making sense of it all for her.

But then again….

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