What's in a name...?

I don't understand it really. But it's just the way I am. I do all my best thinking either in the shower, or when brushing my teeth. When I say 'best thinking' I don't mean that I come up with solutions to food security or world peace, but rather that this is when my brain tends to really get it's hands dirty, regardless of the idea in question.

Last night, standing in front of my bathroom mirror still dripping and wrapped in a towel after a shower, the topic of choice was names. I began to think about all the people that I'd met in my life and how so many of them seemed to display traits that were common to all the other people I'd met with the same names. Take, for example, Tyron (or any variant thereof, such as Tyrone...).

To this day, I have never met a single individual by that name that was even vaguely pleasant. Parents, if you have a boy and you don't particularly want to spend a good part of your sons life in the principles office at school being read the riot act and waxing his growing list of misdemeanours, don't name your child Tyron! It's strange, but true. My mother was a nursery school teacher and my aunt, a primary school teacher, for many years and both confirmed for me that there is indeed a hex on that name; all who bear it are nothing but trouble.

This is not to say that I believe that Tyrons the world over are evil. Far from it! I just have yet to meet one that wasn't.

This all got me thinking about how no matter what the name in question is, it is forever associated with that first person that we met who had it. Another example: I remember in primary school (elementary school for our American readers) having a girl in my class by the name of Angelique. While a tad on the naughty side, what really set her apart from the rest of us was that she had been born with a physical impairment. Her left leg had not fully developed and thus was permanently about 15cm shorter than her right leg. She wore a prosthetic leg extension all the time except for when we had to do PE (physical education - an excuse for teachers to park off and bark orders at children already burnt out from a hard day's work in the classroom).

The truly amazing thing about this girl was not her leg, but rather her approach to life. Angelique was, in spite of all that her biology had thrown at her, unstoppable! I remember that she was always very friendly, but took no nonsense from anyone. She always stood up for the underdog (with the added advantage that few people would argue with a metal reinforced plasticised leg extension...) and even when doing PE, she strove as hard as, if not harder than, all the other kids to do well. As such, this name has a number of connotations for me: scallywag, virtuous and unbeatable.

Another example from primary school was a girl by the name of Catherine. Actually, more than one by that name. And, true to form, both Catherines had equally unpleasant personalities. The first left our school shortly after entering the second grade, much to our unanimous relief. This child, in hindsight probably a deeply troubled individual, would frequently erupt into fully fledged temper tantrums in the classroom. I remember one in particular when she trashed the reading corner, tossing books willy-nilly and overturning the bookshelf, a feat I at the time marvelled at, unable to budge the bookshelf under my own strength. Obviously, rage provided a fuel unmatched by any amount of sugar and tartrezine.

The second Catherine was with us for longer than the first. But, while physical violence wasn't her thing, her skill lay in her unmatched ability to be very unpleasant. She was one of those kids that just never had anything nice to say about or to anyone. Somehow she had friends, but I certainly didn't count myself in their number. In both cases, I learned very quickly that the one thing common to the name was the tactic you used when dealing with them: don't! Just avoid them completely!

So prospective parents, think long and hard about the names that haunt and colour your past. Consult with others about the names that shaped them and give much consideration to the idea, before frivolously applying a label to your offspring!

Party! I wish not...

So, seeing as every other person I know that has a blog has taken to writing again, I feel compelled to do the same. Gotta keep up with the Jones's and all that...

I recently went to a party to celebrate a 25th wedding anniversary. In this day and age, simply having a 25th wedding anniversary is quite a feat and cause for great celebration. However, in this particular case, I just wish that I didn't have to celebrate it with the couple in question. The problem is that they are a family who I have known for some time and in that time I have grown to like them less and less. They are crass, crude, entirely self-centered and juvenile, all of which I cannot stomach. I realise that I am a snob, but what can I do?

So, on Sunday evening, I was dragged, reluctantly, along with my family to this party. Due to the fact that my one sister is currently in the UK, our party of party-goers consisted of my parents, my sister and I. The party was set to start at 5 (what kind of dinner party starts at 5 in the afternoon?!) and the dress code, according to the invitation anyway, was 'smart'. This in itself caused great consternation as none of us could figure out where on the continuum between naked and meeting the Queen of England 'smart' lay, but we figured it sat around the region of smart-casual and dressed accordingly.

Upon our arrival, we realised that smart actually meant, dress as if you are going clubbing in a really seedy area, or alternatively, as if you were going to a house party.

Starting the evening realising that you are severely over-dressed didn't help to improve my outlook on the festivities. The immediate arrival of a waiter with sparkling wine improved my assessment of the situation and after discovering the snack table, I began to think that perhaps things really weren't going to be all that bad. I was gravely mistaken...

To cut a very long, and painful, story short, things tobogganed downhill from this point on. The sparkling wine ran out within about the first 30 minutes, only to be replaced by a truly vile, dry white wine which put a proverbial cork in my sister's and my plans to get tipsy in an effort to make the experience bearable. The DJ for the evening turned out to be tragically overconfident with regard to the ability to woo the audience with his wit. In addition to this, his ability to cram just about every politically incorrect concept into everything he said, as well as a great number of expletives as punctuation didn't exactly warm my sister or I to him. There are hip movements displayed by a 50-something old man on the dancefloor I witnessed that are now permanently burned into my mind which, really, I could have done without. Not knowing a single person there, apart from the celebrated couple and their family didn't help much, but having a camera eased the boredom slightly.

Luckily, we had been placed at a table with a family that had two small children, thus providing the means for our escape. We kept a close eye on the state of fatigue of the children and with the emergence of the first yawn, we proclaimed that we too had best be on our way.

Much to my relief, my mother has decided that this was to be the final event of the family in question that we would ever attend. I've waited about 5 long years to hear that...

The lighter side of xenophobia

As many people the world over now know, South Africa, once the 'rainbow nation', a haven of tolerance and acceptance, is in the throws of a spate of 'xenophobic' attacks. How much the attacks have to do with actual xenophobia and how much is simply displaced rage at the government for failing to provide the necessary poverty alleviation and housing that they promised, I do not know. It has been really terrible to watch how a small band of disgruntled citizens have completely destroyed the countries image and caused untold suffering to the people that they are attacking.

While all of this has been happening, something that has fallen to the wayside is the reactions of the rest of the population to the violence. Naturally, good people don't make for good news, unless they slip up and get caught doing something bad. But it has really been amazing to see just how the country has opened it's arms to those affected by the violence and has taken them in.

Over the airwaves, there have been public declarations of disgust over the behaviour of the individuals perpetrating this violence, and unusually, there have been no misguided politicians saying that they agree with the xenophobes! (This sort of idiotic thing does tend to happen with South African politics...). It's been refreshing to see that the vast majority of the country actually have their heads screwed on the right way and have shown that they will not tolerate this behaviour!

As well as simple lip service, there have been countless charities and volunteers that have given of their time and money to help the displaced. There are shelters being set up everywhere, for affected peoples to stay, out of harms way. People are volunteering at police stations to help feed and clothe people, as well as help look after children. It has been truely amazing to see that we are not a bunch of ignorant thugs who can't think for ourselves, but are in fact a caring nation who love who we are and are not willing to allow the actions of few to ruin it for the rest of us! Well done South Africa, your actions have made me proud to be a South African and to share this beautiful, amazing place with you, in love.

Why on earth am I up this early?!

Good-day internutters :)

I'm currently house-sitting for my aunt and uncle. It's really nice because it gives me a chance to get away from home and relax alone for a while. It's been one hell of a year and so I've really glad that I have gotten this opportunity to just chill. Of course, I would much prefer to be going to the coast with the rest of my family, but alas, this was not to happen. The reason being is thus...

I've been asked to do two talks to kids about monkeys. I know, this sounds ridiculous, but it is true. It seems that most people think that anyone who is at a university is always free and willing to do talks, no matter how mundane they are. While this may be partly true, and I certainly can't say that I would pass up the opportunity to give talks simply because I enjoy it, this does tend to lead to some rather frustrating situations. Such as the one that I am currently in.

Now, it appears that, for most situations anyway, the norm for a talk is a Powerpoint presentation. I am, not boasting, rather good at those and I have learned how to make them so that they provide the watcher with enough information not to be boring and not to be overwhelming at the same time, while still acting as a sort of speech card for me. It's also a really good way to do things because, you can add in videos and sounds and that sort of thing, which is always fun.

But, this time, they expect me to give a talk without the aid of the digital realm. I could handle this, but to make things worse, the crowd that I'm talking to are between the ages of 5 and 12 years old! So now, I've had to plan a whole series of games and things to keep these kids entertained! I'm so freaking out right now! I'm doing my first talk today at 1pm at Southgate. Then the second (and final one!) will be at Clearwater Mall at 1pm.

The one thing that is keeping me sane is that I have enlisted the help of my cousin, Sarah. She's a school teacher who works with the youngest kids, so she will be in her element when she helps out with these talks! Ten points to Sarah! ;D

And now, I must head to the shops to buy things for my talks. That's why I am awake at 7:30 on a Saturday morning...

It bit me!!!

Hello bloggers!

I have to appologise. I have not blogged for almost half a year or so. It's just that doing a Masters degree is a hell of a lot more work than I ever expected and so I rarely had the energy to pick my nose, let alone write about it in my blog. So, I'm sorry.

The point of todays post is to update you all and let you know about what has happened to me in the interum. Firstly, I have started my research at Johannesburg Zoo approximately three times over the course of this year. It has been a great source of stress but I'm chuffed to announce that that stress is no longer a problem as I am not doing my work at Jo'burg zoo until next year, if I get a chance. Instead, I'm working at Pretoria Zoo!

Actually, it's not Pretoria Zoo, it's the National Zoological Gardens of South Africa. I'm sure you can understand why I just call it Pretoria zoo...

So I've started work there and so far, it's working really well! I've finished the first phase of my work there and I'll be meeting with the keeper on Friday to discuss how and when we'll be implementing the second phase! I'm so excited! This will be the first time that I've EVER gotten as far as the second phase! Yay!

Working at Pretoria is interesting to say the least...I have to drive through on a daily basis and as any person who lives in the PWV will tell you, it's not a fun drive. To make things worse, I only end up driving through there between 09:00 and 15:00 so, while I avoid the traffic, I am driving through the hottest hours of the day. It's okay though. I rather enjoy it and I am developing quite a tan from all that sun :D Now, if only I could equlise the tan by tanning my other arm...

I've also enrolled my sisters as my research assitants. They've been a great help with keeping tabs on the chimps and watching the stopwatch for me. Thanks guys!

My supervisor is currently in Cape Town, as an examiner for the University of Cape Town. He goes at the end of every year for about three weeks or so. I think he only actually works there for about a week or two and takes the rest of the time off but I guess, that's cool. He does work like a mad thing when he's at Wits so I suppose some time off isn't a bad plan for him.

And now, for the story relating to the title of this post. Yesterday, I was at the Pretoria Zoo and I was observng the chimps as I do. All was going well, apart from a couple of children who hurled Marie biscuits at the chimps whom I had the joy of shouting at about it (It's very cathartic to yell at misbehaving children in zoos! Try it some time!). All of a sudden, I felt a sharp pain in my elbow. I immediately looked down and saw what I thought was a mosquito biting me! The audasity of this creature! I immediately slapped at the thing, which naturally just wafted off and I ended up slapping myself for no reason. After giving the insect a very disapproving look, I resumed my observations.

All was well until this morning. I woke up and to my horror realised that my elbow was severely swollen! It looks like someone cut a golfball in half and surgically implanted in into my arm! It's not very itchy but it's huge and rather uncomfortable. Then, today I was at the zoo again and I got bitten AGAIN! But this time, the thing that bit me looked like some sort of fly. Once again, I slapped myself as the little bugger gracefully floated away blissfully.

The end.

What is love?

Hi all!

I tried to blog yesterday but for some reason the blogger site was down or something and it wouldn't let me. Can you ever forgive me for leaving that little sliver of my life blank...?

Today when I returned from going to a meeting with my supervisor (for which, he was late for a change!), and then going to the zoo, my dad gave me an article to read from the newspaper. It was the 'Stoep talk', a daily comment section that is almost always hysterically funny. This particular one was about the responces of a group of children aged 4 to 8 yrs old to the question, 'What is love?' These were some of my favourite responces.

"When somebody loves you, the way that they say your name is different. You just know that your name is safe in their mouth" - Billy (4)

"Love is when a girls puts on perfume and a boy puts on shaving cologne and they go out and smell each other" - Karl (5)

"Love is when you go out to eat and give somebody most of your french fries without making them give you any of theirs" - Chrissy (6)

"If you want to learn to love better, you should start with a friend you hate" - Nikka (6)

"I know my older sister loves me because she gives me all her old clothes and has to go out and buy new ones" - Lauren (4)

"You really shouldn't say 'I love you' unless you mean it. But if you mean it, you should say it a lot. People forget" - Jessica (8)

And my favourite: "Love is what's in the room at Christmas if you stop opening presents and listen" - Bobby (7)

Well, I hope you feel that your life has more meaning now. I have yet to read the rest of the paper.

Random Fact Of The Day:

George Washington grew marijuana in his garden

Hmmm...a true heart stopper.

Todays photo is of a little girl, named Gemma, who came over to myself and a group of friends while we were building a sand castle on the beach. We didn't know her from a bar of soap but she decided that we looked like we needed her guidance. In this photo she is seated at the throne that was originally intended to be a castle. Her dad is standing off to the side while a friend of mine, Alice stands in the background. I sometimes wonder what happened to Gemma...