DAY 26: FRIENDS

I remember a time in my life when friendships were extremely hard work.

A failed friendship, or a breakdown in a particular friendship, was a personal failure as well. I derided and blamed myself badly when these breakdowns occurred, and often went to bed riddled with guilt and regret. On the other hand, when things were going well, they were going inexplicably well – happy friendships and relationships seemed to be all I needed to get by.

Ten years later, the dynamic has shifted considerably. As teenagers and even as very young adults, we’re such incomplete souls – we don’t really have a clue of what we want, so by default we go with the flow and follow the haphazard, hit-or-miss paths of our friends. We engage in activities we think we should, go to places we’re convinced we have to and even have entire conversations that we feel compelled to indulge in… until that beautiful, cathartic day when we begin doing and saying what we truly want to and what we truly believe in.

Sometimes, it’s a shift that takes you quite by surprise. Sometimes, it comes gradually. But there is a definite transformation that takes place where you’re no longer defined by the needs and wants of your friends, but by your own needs and wants (now that you can actually see them with clarity).

This transformation, universally known as growing up, will see you drifting away from friendships that previously seemed indestructible. It’s not to say that those you drift from have not grown up, but rather, you’ve both grown apart.

At the same time, you’ll find yourself attracting and being drawn to very different types of people, types that you probably would have disregarded because they didn’t fit your mould.

To go back to my point right at the start… friendships used to be hard work because I didn’t know who I was and what I wanted. I was working overtime at connections that fundamentally clashed with who I was. I wouldn’t go so far as to say that I have all the answers now either, but I have a heightened sense of intuition that I trust. It lets me know when I’m happy and when I’m not. It lets me know when I’m being appreciated, listened to, comforted and invested in – and of course, when I willingly invest as well.

The end result of growing up and finding yourself is that you’re usually left with a treasured group of friends that truly listen when you speak (to me, it’s a priceless gift to have someone listen, and not just hear you). You’re comfortable enough to bicker with these friends with the knowledge that you still love one another when voices are no longer raised. You’re comfortable and secure enough to know that just because you haven’t seen one another for a little while, the connection is still as it should be.

Friendships do require work, effort and commitment. But hard, grinding, constant exertion? Nope. Insincerity? Scepticism? Definitely not.

Hallelujah to growing older, knowing what it is that you want and finding some incredible friends to share it all with.

DAY 25: WINTER IS RIDICULOUS

Winter is a ridiculous thing. It’s a season designed to show us how absolutely foolish we can look whilst doing the supposedly ordinary.

Like right now: it’s after 11pm and I just got home. First, I swore a few times under my breath as I walked from my car to my front door. Once I opened the door and discovered my apartment was virtually as icy as it was outside, I swore a little bit again.

Before getting into bed, I started doing my hair. Well, you’d think that by switching on my hairdryer, I started doing my hair – but nope, it was all about warming my bed up as quickly as possible to avoid the fifteen seconds of death that it takes for your bed to exit the ice age.

For a few moments, I appreciated that I lived alone and had nobody to witness this odd exercise, but I can’t say I’d care if I did have a witness. On full speed, at maximum heat, a hairdryer is gold.

In a couple of hours, I’ll need to wake up, and it will be awful. There will be the usual desperate and blind (because I won’t have my contacts in yet) search for the warm top I’ve put next to my bed. In winter, one does not simply get out of bed without getting at least partially dressed first – that would be heroic, to put it mildly.

Then, after finally getting up and standing, there will be more swearing (as you can tell, swearing is the common denominator from June to August).

The naked ‘dance’ outside the shower as the water refuses to warm up in anything under an hour is inevitable. Other simplicities that go unnoticed in summer become torture-filled in winter: rinsing your mouth with cold water, putting on spray, taking out the trash, having a glass of water and waiting by the basin like a freak before washing your hands so you can do so with warm water. That's without mentioning checking your washing for the sixth time in two days and wondering how on earth the only decent pair of jeans you have is still damp?

Then, eventually, after one last longing stare at your bed, you finally have to go outside for that treacherous walk to the car – or if you’re less spoilt than the rest of us, the bus stop.

I hate winter.

DAY 24: WHAT'S ON MY DESK/IN MY POCKET/IN MY CAR

Well, this was a rather odd one to write about.

After putting together a list of things I carry around with me (or keep in close proximity), I felt like the most boring person in the entire world. There’s nothing very quirky here, but I guess it comes down to my preference for an environment that isn’t cluttered.

In my pocket (when I go out):

• *Besides the usual smartphone, lip balm and wallet combination, I don’t carry anything else in pockets.

*Is there something else a guy should be carrying around with him that nobody has told me about?

In my car:

• Hand sanitizer (because everything we touch is germ-infested and gross, and one can never tell when you might find yourself with a burger in your hands, whilst on the road)
• A mini padlock (for gym visits)
• My tennis bag (obvious enough, I’d think)
• Me. I Am Mariah – The Elusive Chantuese (this CD hasn’t left my front loader since the album came out in May)
• The ugliest sheet in the whole world (I wrapped it around my jack/spanner/spare wheel, to prevent them from knocking around and rattling when I drive – car rattles = torture)
• Random tennis balls (I try, but I am never able to get all of them out of my car at one time)
• Two jackets (there’s very little that’s worse than being somewhere for a long time and being cold – it’s something I try my best to avoid)

On my desk (at work):

• A tiered file/paper holder that makes it look like I use stationery
• A pen/pencil/eraser holder that also makes it appear as though I use stationery
• A USB-powered coffee mug heater / holder (a very nifty gift from a close friend)
• A hard drive – or three hard drives (because of what I do, I am constantly transferring data)
• A camera (which I use, sometimes, for mini shoots. It takes up a lot of space, so I usually leave it on the extra half of another desk which I begged for and finally got)
• Coffee (because, well, coffee)

Like I said, quite an odd one to write about. I hate clutter and unnecessary stuff because it makes me feel claustrophobic, which is why this little list is… quite little.

The initiators of this month-long writing challenge tweeted the following a few days ago:

So, spectacularly random topic or not, that's exactly what I'm going to do until Day 31 :-)

DAY 23: MUSIC

Has the instant accessibility of music taken away some of the joy of listening to our favourite songs?

One day, many years ago, I was chilling in the kitchen at home, just minding my own business, making coffee or warming food… or something of the sort.

All was calm, relaxed and typically homely. A child screamed with joy somewhere next door, a dog barked, the radio was on in another room and a light breeze blew through one of the sliding doors. Nothing could have prepared me for what happened next.

One second, the radio DJ was talking a bunch of unintelligible rubbish, and the next, I heard the first few seconds of JoJo’s Leave (Get Out), a hit at the time and yes, whatever, a song I loved.

To say I almost killed myself as I raced down the passage, took a sharp left into my parent's room and almost crashed into our old-school, humungous Hitachi hi-fi to press ‘record’ would be putting it mildly. I really could have hurt myself.

But at that moment, there was nothing more important than recording this song that had been stuck in my head for a couple of days.

There was an indescribable magic in hearing your favourite song on the radio at a time when you didn’t expect it, and better still, managing to record 85% of that song for endless rewinds and scratchy repeat plays. The spontaneity of it all is sorely missing today, where tracking down your favourite songs has become crazy in its convenience.

But because we can easily find whatever it is we need in a few seconds, there’s no delay and no sense of anticipation that the moment will come where you’ll hear the tune you’ve been subconsciously singing along to.

It’s no wonder that album sales have dropped so drastically. Technology has transformed us into beings of instant gratification – we want to hear that ONE song RIGHT NOW and we can. And next week (or tomorrow), there will be another one. But that gradual, growing appreciation for an artist or individual track that came from unexpected, comparatively few listens on the radio has waned.

Even today, my enjoyment of a favourite song on the radio is much higher than if I had actively searched for the song and played it. But those moments are rare, considering the iTunes libraries and USB ports we’re constantly surrounded by.

I feel pretty darn lucky to have grown up without all these conveniences and to have consumed my music in desperate, unexpected, bite-sized chunks that almost resulted in injury, because really, a little bit of Savlon and a tiny Elastoplast were small prices to pay for that feeling of musical euphoria.

DAY 22: A LETTER TO MY CHILDHOOD SELF

It’s your 13^th birthday today, and in just six months’ time, you’ll be heading off to high school (don’t worry about those final Afrikaans and Maths exams – you did pass them, and you aren’t going to fail, and you’re going to go to high school next year like everyone else).

My wish for you is to enjoy the next three or so years, because they will be some of your best and most cherished (oh, and you can cherish them in much more detail if you speak to your mother and demand an immediate eye test. It isn’t normal to get up from your desk to see the board. It’s called short-sightedness).

Your first years of high school precede the much tougher emotional challenges that come with growing up. Suddenly, one day, you’ll find yourself facing battles much more serious than your maths mark. You’ll wonder how it’s possible for people close to you to affect you so much more, both in good and bad ways.

In all those situations, I want you just to… breathe. Because no matter how bad things can seem, they always pass. No single moment (or day, or month) defines your whole life, so please don’t let it!

Next year, try to work a bit harder. You’re far too smart to be struggling through some of these exams – no, you don’t need to be first in class, but you are at minimum a B student. Please believe that, and don’t accept anything less of yourself.

Oh, and PT period at high school. Don’t stress about that either, because as small and awkward as you may be, you’ll be in better shape than most of your ‘cool’ class mates 15 years down the line (trust me on this, because, well, I’m you). Plus, you’ll be able to escape 90% of PT classes at high school by ‘using them for music practise’, so what’s the point of stressing about a class you’ll only attend 10% of the time?

You’re going to form some amazing friendships soon, and further grow those you already have. Cherish them, because most will still be around when you’re much older (you and I, we value our friends – we’re cool like that). Friendships and family will become extremely important parts of your life, so do your best to work at them. And speaking of family, don’t just live in the same house as them, but speak to them, help them where you can and learn from them.

And the matric ball? Nobody remembers it after it happens anyway. Go with anyone, or by yourself, or in a shorts. IT’S NOT A BIG DEAL.

And one more thing, I’d go for a journalism degree if I were you. Just do it and it will make things a bit easier for you down the line.

It will also be easier just to tell people things (verbally, as opposed to those cryptic messages you’re so good at writing) – your instincts are almost always right, and no matter what you have to tell, your real friends will accept it within about 10 seconds.

For everything else I haven't shared with you here, well, you'll figure it out. Besides, I can't give you that much of a head-start - it wouldn't be fair to your peers.

See you soon.

PS: You’re buying your first phone with the pocket money you’ve saved in just a few months. It’s going to be one of the best days of your life. Just remember your limit: no more than three, off-peak SMS messages per day, which will cost you 75c. And Venus is going to be surpassed by Serena in greatness soon – oh, you think that’s funny? Well, just you wait.

DAY 21: UTTER RANDOMNESS

Colour key: green = utterly random

The last 12 months of living alone have been filled with utterly random moments that take me (often unpleasantly) by surprise. There are of course the bigger certainties that we’re well aware of before signing that first lease: paying triple the amount of rent that seems reasonable, getting used to going out less, spending Saturday mornings washing dishes instead of sleeping in and, of course, feeding yourself or flirting with malnutrition.

These are all certainties, so they hardly took me by surprise. But there are a bunch of smaller, random chores and events that take place just after you move out that leave you feeling upset, angry, unprepared, frustrated, tangled, in pain and sometimes, all-out mortified.

Like the first time I used a washing machine unaided. Even though I had been surrounded by these machines for over 20 years, I never really took note, but I was convinced that a single wash couldn’t possibly exceed 30 minutes. So that first time, when the machine was still at it over an hour later, I frantically stopped it, fearing an explosion - naturally, I spent the next 20 minutes wringing out a sopping wet load of washing by hand.

Then, there was the case of the blocked drain. Few things invite me to barf more readily than a blocked drain. My first thought was that I needed a plumber immediately. Thank goodness I Googled it first, and a R38 can of Caustic Soda later, this one turned out to be an easy fix. Cleaning the inside of a microwave and a fridge was rather random, and that piece of counter under the microwave regularly haunts me (spending another 5 minutes to clean it as regularly as the rest of the countertop rarely seems worth it). But these pale in comparison to taking down heavy curtains to have them washed, and then replacing them – that ordeal was beyond bleak.

I’ve also done some astonishingly dumb, embarrassing and random things over the past year, and these all fall into the ‘all-out mortified’ category. The first one was attempting to put a mini oven/stove into a cupboard whilst standing on a stool – the fact that I am still here to share the tale with you is a miracle. The fact that the oven is still here, in one piece, is even more of a miracle.

There was also the night after 11pm when I stood on a stool (clearly the common denominator when it comes to my dumb moments) that was balanced on a table, to change the bulb of the patio light, and all of it in the howling wind and rain.

And I can’t not mention the time, just before I bought a couch, where I needed to measure the width of the limited space I had available. Without a tape measure or even a ruler in sight, I used my 1,66m frame in a horizontal position, face-down, to measure the space available. If I were as tall as a regularly sized person, I might have come up with the wrong measurement entirely because I would have had to manoeuvre myself into a semi-foetal position. Still, my measurements turned out to be very accurate, and I even got over my fear of instruction manuals by assembling the couch myself.

For all their randomness and for all the frustration they’ve caused, I’m still thankful for these little foibles that mark life in your 20s. After all, thanks to that thing called trial and error, I have a couch that can comfortably be sat on, a drain that’s not holding on to anything and a far more trusting relationship with my washing machine.