In Vacant or in Pensive Mood

I am dreamer. When I say that, I mean it in every sense of the word. I dream when I am sleeping, even if it is when I’m just accidentally dozing off in a bus, and I dream almost every minute that I’m awake! I don’t know what reason to attribute to this quality of mine; it could be because I spent most of my childhood playing with myself since I had no siblings until I was 12. It could also be my left-handedness, as you may have heard that left-handed people are prone to be directed by the right brain, responsible for imagination and all things creative! Well, whatever the reason maybe, if I was asked to describe myself in one word, I would say “DREAMER”. Picture: Mpho Mojapelo on Unsplash I love my dreams – when I am sleeping, they turn my eyelids into my very own theatre and play out intertwined stories that are illogical, but are also so full of sense. When my mother wakes me up in the middle of a dream, I go right back to sleep just so that I can finish watching the r...

Growing up is a huge responsibility. When we were children, we were just waiting to grow up and go to work! We thought that life was easier for our parents and the other adults we knew because they had no homework to worry about when they got back from work. We associated school to torture when we compared them with our childish imaginations of adult life. And, although some of us did say that we wanted to become doctors or teachers when we grew up, the span of our imaginations could not be limited to those few words put into our heads by adults. Take, for example, what my little sister used to say she wanted to be when she grew up; “Haaayah” , her version of Aayah , a name we use for maids who clean, and help the teachers in the kindergarten. She also used to claim that her Haayah was her best friend! My little cousin once said he wanted to be a lorry (truck) driver. What simple, uncomplicated wishes they were, very unlike the clichéd aspirations we were expected to possess. ...

Once again, I managed to drag myself out of bed, bathe in heated water, dress up in a hurry, partially comb my wet hair, and finally rush to the bus stop at 6:45 am. My earrings and safety pins were still clenched in my fist, and the things inside the bag slung over my shoulder lay cluttered as I pulled out my ID card and wore it around my neck. The bus would be there any minute. The bus arrived at 6:50 am, and I boarded it with a smile, and waded through the aisle as I looked for a place to sit. Coming to two empty seats adjacent to each other, I dropped my bag into the first one, and slid my own self into the other one by the window. I opened out the closed window and immediately felt content as the pleasant morning breeze made its way in. Quickly, I organized the things in my bag, put on my earrings, pinned up my clothes wherever necessary, opened out my hair and combed it lightly. Then I adjusted my seat to just the right position; pushed back so that I could lean comfortably,...

I’ve just created my blog page, and this is my first-ever blog entry. In this day and age, when pretty much everyone has a blog page, my first blog entry seems a tad too late for my almost 22-year old self. Oh, to be honest, I’m a lazy person, and I like to avoid doing anything that is not mandatory. Except, of course, the things I love. It’s not mandatory to read a novel, or Facebook constantly, but these things I do, because I love doing them. Most normal people don’t like working/studying, but both these are not optional for most of us. So we do them. Writing, for me, is not optional because it is part of my job. So writing is programmed into my system, into my nature and into my way of living. Apart from the writing I do at work, I write anything and everything my friends want me to write, I scribble down spontaneous lists anywhere possible, I devour quotes from all possible sources and write them everywhere for inspiration, I record almost every feeling and every event of my life...