I‘m in a pretty weird mental space at the moment. Well, for ‘weird’, substitute bad.

I don’t want to scare people out there in the interwebs, so before I go into the details, don’t worry about me. I’m not looking for words of comfort or sympathy, I just feel like writing about it because that’s what I do on my blog. Actually I’m doing quite well, in terms of general life.

So firstly there is the fear. It won’t leave me. A general fear for my future, and the accompanying sense of dismay as I have the conviction that things are going to turn out badly. If I thought I had suffered until now, I should get ready for much worse as I get older. Fear that I have made terrible career decisions, fear that I will end up in the same situation as my parents, no money, no way of making money, debts. And I have made terrible career decisions.

Then there is the sense of hopelessness. I think whenever I have felt bad before, I felt bad for a time, or a moment. But something clicked in me a while ago, something registered, something broke. It will never end. The bad things will never ever end. I need to accept that things are probably just going to get harder and harder with time. This is based on the evidence I have around me.

It was a weird sensation, when I accepted this. Like I have lost everything, including the will to carry on. But I do anyway. I have to. I don’t know if there can be anything worse than this feeling. Although it is strangely liberating to see the very bottom of hope. I’m still alive I guess, still ticking on. Things are good for now, and although I no longer have hope, at least I can cope. And be happy in the moments when I am coping.

I really have to live from day to day. If I look any further than one day, what I see might make me want to stay in bed.

So ja, I am pretty happy now, today. Life is good.  I just am so fucking scared of tomorrow.

I don’t usually like to post reviews of books or movies here because there are professionals out there who do a much better job than me, and I always feel just a little pretentious and pompous when I do it. But I have read and watched some really disappointing things lately that have inspired me to review (read rantn about) some of them.

Firstly a book I was really looking forward to reading: The Bone People by Keri Hulme. It won the Booker prize, it had millions of rave reviews. It’s about New Zealand and child abuse. I had never read any New Zealand authors. I was amped.

Oh my god it was a terrible terrible book. I feel betrayed by the publishing industry. They allowed this thing to be published unedited. Now by editing I am not just referring to punctuation and grammar, although those were pretty bad in this book. Sometimes she changed tense within sentences.

Editing also refers to the overall structure of the book, the beginning flowing to the middle and the end, removing needless scenes etc. This book sure could have done with some of that. I realised after reading the thing that I had skipped out nearly three chapters by mistake. I hadn’t noticed. I went back and read them. They did not contribute anything to the book, not one tiny thing.

The author seems to be proud of the lack of editing, because she claims in her forward that she likes to do twee things with words like writing bluegreen instead of blue-green. She felt that the “voice of the artist” won through. She is right about that, but her voice is painfully self indulgent. To not edit is to believe you are above other people. Everyone needs to edit. You owe it to your readers. Some of the book is so badly written it is embarrassing. It was embarrassing to read.

Some of it was ok though, strangely enough the bits with the violence were quite convincingly written. But the rest, oh and the end, the end. Someone ends up as the guardian of the soul of New Zealand. Oh help me.

Sorry if you liked this book. I am aware that I am in a tiny minority who thought it abominable. If you look at Amazon people wax lyrical about it by the dozen. Personally I feel cheated of time and money. It was a loooong book. It makes me want to write something just because I know I could do better.

Showeee rant over. But yeesh it really got my goat, this book.

If you have ever felt … a little cynical about the Twilight series, or just plain hate it, you need to go and read this.

If you love Twilight, or take serious offence from reading about sparkly love juice, then it’s probably not for you.

Personally I have never read or watched anything to do with Twilight, and this tells me all I need to know.

Nice one Goblin!

Woah man, I am so out of it.

So to recap, I destroyed our home laptop by unplugging it while the BFG was at a crucial stage of reformatting. What a fail. So I’m typing this on our teeny tiny EEE computer.

Something has happened to me at work! I have been unleashed! For the last year and a half I have been behaving like a shell shocked turtle. Dead quiet, dead serious, timid. Working amongst top scientists when you are not one yourself can do that to you. I was afraid to say anything idiotic so I didn’t say much. Also everyone seemed very serious.

The thing is, it wasn’t me. Well, it was me, the shy, serious side of me, but in real life I am full of shit. I can’t take anything too seriously. When I get to know people well I am a terrible tease and I love talking utter crap. And laughing. Laughing at everyone and everything. And all of a sudden my brain has decided it is now ok for me to unleash this side of me at work.

The problem is control; I have none. It would be fine if I was mischievous now and then, but for me it is all or nothing. Now I just can’t be serious, can’t shut up. I seem to have no control over my tongue, I could say absolutely anything, including many things I might regret later.

Good grief. I need to retain some professionalism here!

At my previous job I didn’t need to maintain this professional-fun balance. Our boss was clinically insane. Everyone in the lab did whatever they wanted to lighten the mood and we were all full of shit all the time. My colleagues used to tape my pippettes under my desk or chair, my tubes all over the computer, and one of them put glycerol in my gloves. At least I hope it was glycerol. Eeeeuw.

tubes taped to the computer.

I can’t go that far now, I can guage the mood in this lab and it would be too much. But OMG my naughty instincts have come out from a looooong and shy hibernation.

I think it’s a good thing I spend a lot of time alone in the lab or who knows what could happen. My vuvuzela has already had a lab visit, with harmonious consequences.

Am going now. To behave. And be serious.

At my last job one of my friends used to defrost her frozen samples in my ear. Seriously. I have really warm ears. Just saying.

I saw this on A million miles from normal, who credits it on her blog.

He left two days ago and I already miss him.

I miss being able to talk about him all the time with my colleagues at work. I miss making predictions with them and seeing who trusted the octopus (me) and who didn’t. I miss talking about football all the time. Haha I’m sure some of them are RELIEVED that Phillip has  gone so I will stop giving everyone running score commentary all the time.

I will miss seeing all the sexy players and all the tense games. I realised again how much I love watching sport. What a jock I am. As I don’t have a TV I only watch the really big stuff on the internet. And it’s so much fun. It reminds me of the olden times when I was bored out of my skull lurking around the house and all that I could do was stare at the TV with my dad at whatever the hell sport he had on.

I miss having my home country beamed into my flat all the time, with video and footage and articles covering every inch of the country. I mis the insane vibe that emanated all across the world. I miss seeing thousands of ecstatic people just having fun.

Bye bye Phillip, I loved having you around. I love how you got your name. Only in South Africa, seriously.

P.S. am doing my work presentation thingy and am also pretty fucked up about life at the moment so will be in hibernation this week.

It all comes down to hamsters in the end.

Four things:

• My boss got me special permission to not wear my safety glasses on my computer. He is my hero! It wasn’t easy. We had to have a full on assessment considering the likelihood of my colleague shooting projectile sodium hydroxide in my face from across the room, over multiple barriers. They eventually deemed it safe. I may not go blind from squinting after all. Still have to wear them when I wash my hands.

• Last weekend the BFG and I went to watch a  World Cup event… no not that type… the Bouldering World Cup at Sheffield. It was incredible. It’s always a privelege to see the world’s best athletes in action. It blew my mind. The men’s winner who is pretty much the best climber around, stood right in front of me. He was very tall so I couldn’t see but I think his bag may have bashed me a few times, so it was worth it :)  The women’s winner stood right in front of me too. These people have the puniest calves you will ever see. Freaky. I really like that climbing is still a humble sport where the athletes will go stand in the crowd to watch their friends. No bodyguards or separate areas.

• On Saturday the BFG and I celebrate 10 years together! I don’t know what possessed him to pick a strange, quiet 19 year old over anyone else during that climbing trip back in 2000, but I am so glad he did. Only one person in the world can be lucky enough to be with him, and that’s me!

• I am supporting Spain on Sunday. I don’t have an ancestry reason, actually I have some Dutch ancestry if we go back to the 1800’s. I just love Latin people. They are so unlike me. Erm, not the most rational of reasons but whatever. At least I picked a team! Gotta blow my vuvuzela for someone.

Venga España!

Wherever I go on the internet I see it: the rumour of xenophobic violence in South Africa, lying in wait until after the World Cup. It freaks me out, it makes me sick; it could all be bullshit.

Some people think that even mentioning the rumour allows it to grow into more than a rumour. So far from what I have seen, the government doesn’t appear to be taking any preventative measures. They will probably “wait and see”, and have the police ready to come in. Too late.

I wonder, if there is a rumour of violence against foreigners, is that not enough to start thinking about what needs to be done to mitigate the situation? If the government won’t do anything before the attacks, is it up to the citizens? What would you do to help prepare for such an event in case it happened? Do you think preparing for it is enoucraging something to happen?

I know that xenophobic violence occurred long before the famous attacks in 2008, and has happened many times since. Usually it is on a small scale and doesn’t get reported in the international news. But from the rumours this sounds like another more regimented, organised plan of attacks.

I know this rumour should be taken seriously. I know that xenophobic violence in South Africa will happen again and again and again until there are enough jobs and houses for the locals. There are just too many immigrants for the system to support. There are too many locals for the system to support, it seems. But what to do to help in the short term?

Start getting shelters ready, the same shelters that were used last time? Plan to shelter people yourself? Make a hiding place in your house for people? Tell any foreigners you know living in the townships to lie low and hide, or at least to be aware?

Or just lock your door, and wait?

I just don’t know. I’m not even there to do anything. I do know it won’t be the last time, whether this time is merely a rumour or not.

UPDATE: this rumour is not going around the UK. It is going around South Africa. All of the articles and blog posts I have read have been by South African journos. Here are some links:

Neoscribes. – Baghana-baghandisgusting.

Mail and guardian: high noon in Dunoon.

Mail and guardian: somalis seek safety in numbers.

MAil and guardian: threats are just a rumour.

iol.co.za – army moves into Dunoon…

From the old – Nelson Mandela foundation warns of xenophobia after world cup.

AllAfrica.com – foreigners fear post-world cup xenophobia.

Mhambi.com: xenophobic time bomb after world cup.

The Times – Xenophobic attacks our own form of terrorism -June 6th 2010

Eeek. There are so many more. Just google it.

UPDATE 2:

When I wrote this post I had the impression from what I had read that the government wasn’t taking these threats seriously. But now I see in an article published 02 July that they have moved the army into Dunoon  after a persistently threatening situation. I am very impressed to see that they have taken preemptive measures and I’m also impressed that some of the locals helped the foreigners. It’s a dangerous situation considering that these thugs are not particularly interested in where you are from when they are full of hatred.

But I still want to know if you think it is possible for middle class South Africans locked away safely in suburbia, far from the violence, to do anything to get ready to help if widespread violence broke out? And how? I really want to know because I HATE sitting by, watching something like this unfold, feeling helpless, especially when we were warned it was likely to happen.

I need to rant. Badly. So badly that I am going to break my rule about not blogging about work. It makes me nervous though. I’m terrified of anyone finding this blog. I like my work place. I really do.

I work at an academic institution. A very good one. You would think at these institutions that at least vaguely intelligent people tend to congregate, but apparently not.

I have worked in a lab for many years now. When I am not sure if something is toxic, I was always told to ask, or look it up in the safety manual, or freaking google it for crying out loud. The best bet is ask someone. If it is a dangerous chemical or bacterium or a task involving breaking glass, then I wear safety glasses. You know, those perspex type goggles you see on TV?

Once I was working with dried plants. I admit it didn’t occur to me to wear my glasses because it seemed a harmless task, and I got a piece of plant in my eye and it scratched my eye for days on end.

Did I sue anyone? No. Why the hell would I? It is my call as to whether I wear the glasses or not, or to ask someone if I should. I can’t have a freaking nanny surgically attached to my arm who should tell me when to wear glasses.

There have been a few accidents in our academic institution as a whole where some people who were using infectious bacteria did not wear their glasses, and then squirted their eyes and got a horrendous infection. But instead of making them sign an indemnity form, or, I don’t know, letting evolution take its course, the authorities have decided that everyone who works in a lab of any sort must now wear their safety glasses at ALL TIMES. Which for me means: the entire day.

There were perhaps 5 minutes per day when I used to need my safety glasses. But now: If I am watering my plants – safety glasses. If I am washing my hands – safety glasses. If I am sitting at my desk, writing in my lab book – safety glasses. Pens are frikking dangerous you know. My computer is in the lab. Guess what? I have to wear my safety glasses when I work on the computer. Seriously.

Then there is the problem of the actual glasses. I don’t wear normal glasses, but I am slightly long sighted and will probably have to get some in the future. When I wear my safety glasses, after about 15 minutes my sight goes blurry and I get a headache. By the end of the day I can’t see and my eyes ache so I can’t sleep well.

Everyone who wears normal glasses has to go for an eye test (at the institution’s expense) and get custom made prescription safety glasses (at the institution’s expense). What is this insanity? Can you imagine how much this will cost?

Common sense. Wave your fond goodbyes. Something tells me that it’s a trait that will die out after my generation.

Just a supaquik update of what’s been going on in the hood, because I know you live for the thrills and (blood)spills  of Leamington Spa:

• A nightclub opened up across the road from my flat. They seem to think that playing very loud music through the night right up until 9am is ok… some would disagree. I may have to bring out my vuvuzela.

• Actually the nightclub music is an improvement on the multilingual karaoke and the very dated techno that they played through the night before.

• My next door neighbour’s dodgy boyfriend smashed their window on Saturday. Unfreakingbelievable. The curse of the glass smashing lives on. I think he was trying to break in because she was out,  so he didn’t actually punch it, but still.

• There was a murder in the town and her body was found two weeks ago. The girl was abducted across the road from my flat.  It was most likely a crime of passion,  and they have already arrested the prime suspect, so I probably have nothing to fear, but I doubt I will want to walk around in that area alone again.

Thassall folks. I seriously long to have a little house on the prairie right now. I’m not entirely sure what a prairie is (excuse me while I wiki wiki) but I think it entails grass. It sounds nice. And peaceful. Preferably in Texas so I don’t have to do my driving test any more.

I went to Pearl Jam, got thoroughly moshed, and survived! Mostly thanks to my BFG’s amazing crowd manipulation skills.

Moshing is a bit controversial if you ask me. I understand that some people enjoy it and that is their way of expressing their love of the music. But I think it is very important for them to remember that not everyone enjoys it and that people can die in mosh pits. Ten years ago 9 people died at a Pearl Jam gig. The band members all considered retiring after that. Eddie Vedder, the lead singer, received many  alerts over his earpiece on Friday to warn the crowd to stay calm because it was pretty rough out there. From where I was standing the moshing started even before Pearl Jam came on.

There was a group of young but BIG boys who were determined to have a good time, seemingly with no regard to whether other people were having a good time or not. And to me that is where moshing goes wrong.

When Pearl Jam did come on, it got pretty hectic. Within the first few seconds people were being rescued like flies by the security, being pushed to the front through a bone-crushing mash of people where they could be pulled out to safety. There were many tiny girls around me who were absolutely terrified, screaming for help, begging for it to stop. We all did our best to help them to the front asap. Loads of guys were scrambling to the front to be rescued too. They had a harder time being saved because the moshers kept throwing them back in.

The BFG seemed to be enjoying the mosh so I hung around, thinking I could survive, but I realised sometime into the second song that I was spending all my time trying to stay alive rather than enjoy the music so I told him I wanted out. He managed somehow to steer us sideways out of the pit. I have no idea how this worked. My feet hardly touched the ground, but he somehow managed to use the force of other people’s bodies to steer us in the direction he wanted. It was amazing.

The people on the edge of the mosh pit were great, and seemed to take it upon themselves to do all the saving. They offered to get me to the front but I was pretty happy drifting sideways. It was a bit squeezy and squishy but it worked and the BFG and I popped out amongst a quieter crowd to the side.

Shoowee. I normally enjoy dancing at gigs but after that crushing experience I was happy to chill and stand still.

My usual experiences of moshes have been much safer. They were usually at local gigs where there were not 50 000 people all pushing forwards. Usually at local gigs people make space for the moshers and you can join in and bounce out again at will.  But this Pearl Jam thing was a bit scary. There was no space, no way to get in and out. It would be fine if everyone was like the guys who were helping other people escape, but of course there were some guys who were so into their own enjoyment that they didn’t notice that some people were scared or getting hurt, and they didn’t seem to care.  And that is why moshing is so dangerous. If you can be aware that other people may not enjoy something as much as you then it will be safe, but these guys didn’t appear to see the tiny sub-five foot girls being crushed and thrown around, looking scared and not having a good time at all.

I felt so bad for Eddie Vedder. After the first two songs, he had a little chat with the audience, asked us to be cool and look out for our neighbour, make sure everybody was having a good time. A few songs later he asked again, and got us all to take a few steps back to relieve some pressure on the front. He spoke to us again about it a few songs later, and he was so full of emotion that he couldn’t finish his sentence.

He told us how cut up he was to see people being dragged out of the crowd like they weren’t having a good time. He couldn’t carry on speaking and after that song he told us that it was ten years since the tragedy when the 9 fans died at their gig, and more than anything, his concern was with our safety. The poor guy! Shit I felt bad for him, and mad at those boys who were so selfish. Moshing can be safe if you make it safe, or it can be dangerous. No one was badly hurt that night, everyone was safe, but I wonder if those guys were really the true Pearl Jam fans that they considered themselves to be, because their actions were causing the band so much grief and worry.

Anyway, after I escaped my mosh mashing, I could focus on the music, and it was just wonderful. Eddie’s voice really is amazing. He played the songs I wanted to hear and more. He played songs I have never heard before that were beautiful. It really was awesome. Hearing 50+ thousand people singing the first verse of Better Man was pretty special.

Another awesome moment was before the Pearl Jam gig when Eddie Vedder and the awesome Ben Harper did a cover of Under Pressure. It was probably one of the best songs of the evening, it’s pity I was too busy being squished to totally enjoy it…

I had a great time, but maybe from now on I should stand further back, because I may be getting a leetle bit too old for that level of intense moshing. My back is not so good these days, you know?

What do you think about moshing?

Here is Pearl Jam’s setlist if you are interested.