Friday, December 11, 2009

I'm alive!

Wow, its so good to be back in Botswana even though its 40 degrees in the shade. Home is always home. I've decided I need more people on this blog. Self marketing here I come. Until then I will be perched in my room with the box set of Entourage hoping that I don't sweat too much!

Monday, October 26, 2009

To differentiate

When do we learn the difference between pleasure and pain - Between love and hate or simply good and bad? We don’t, as people, have fixed boundaries and restrictions as we oh so wish, dream or believe we have.

One can say one thing and mean the other, get one thing and still want the next. In this day and age, one may never be too sure of oneself. We have gone from trust and assurance in self to having barricades on pointless items because we think that is supposed to be how we feel and live, how we are free.

But the main lesson to be learned is up to you to create. So you can differentiate everything, including yourself. Then you can stand out and be who you know you really are.

For you are one of a kind in a full house. It is about time you started acting like it.

Wednesday, October 7, 2009

The Emo kid speaks

Ah the glorious façade that comes to the rescue of us shattered mortals for as many times as needed. Soon enough, the façade will transform and blend into the shattered one's face. But that is all it is – a face. It is not feelings. Ay there is the rub!

I’m not a happy kid. Neither am I an Emo scene kid. I’m generally not a happy person. I believe that happiness is for the elite and that happiness is a supernatural entity that flits around the universe bestowing itself upon the asking, willing and sometimes unwilling. Ah, but there are times when one, like I, have been willing and almost at the point of begging for happiness to come and grant just one honest smile. Yet through this a smile is left on my face and the disappointment in my heart because of the knowledge that the smile is in fact a façade. Yes, I do fake it! But there are times when I do smile in earnest, those are the moments I hold dearest to my heart. Those smiles and those moments when happiness does grant me a moment of its time come when I am with my siblings and my cousins. Those times I treasure so dearly and hope to God they don’t end. When they do I resort back to a straight face, a frown or a fake smile. I do not know which is worse, a counterfeit smile or just a truthful look of gloom. Those who do know me, those who are lucky ( if that is the right word or maybe burdened is) to be let into (only briefly) into the heart of Jamaine Chiwaye have said that it is rather I keep a straight face or frown because my fake smile looks painful. Wow, the truth hurts huh?

The reason I am unhappy is not one I have actually been able to fathom: Perhaps its glorious teenage angst rearing its ugly head. Maybe it is part of the deal of writing poetry. The better the poems get, the worse you. I do know that a great deal of the unhappiness is of my own orchestrating. I create, I plan and I orchestrate. I meticulously set out the unknown to end up as the inevitable. I ensure people hear only what they want to and what I want them to. However, the worst thing I do is I create or rather fantasise about perfect worlds or perfect occurrences only to be disappointed by realism. I am the one who did say that the illusion of perfection is always shattered by the truth of reality. Yet still again I create a world where she is there, I am with her and I am happy. She is now a figment of my imagination yet she isn’t. She is real but unattainable. Others think because I did show interest they may be her, but time and again I lay awake wondering how it is I can find a replacement for the one. It is not my fault she laid a standard and continuously does that many keep falling short from. This ranking goes so far to the point that the two girls whom I thought I liked at present and whom I thought I could fall in love with paled so far in comparison to her that I stopped feeling for them entirely. In a second the love has vanished and is replaced by a longing for the unattainable. The one chance in a years that I get the chance to feel for someone in that way and it is quashed by a memory – a pleasant memory at that…

But c’est la vie. I can not whine forever. I can be an Emo kid in the way that I wear my heart on my sleeve. Yet I only allow a certain unlucky few to see my heart and I am forever grateful that they care. So where to from now? I will walk outside, see someone I know and smile. They don’t know that it is a façade and that is the way I prefer it. Nobody like a sad face – including myself.

Monday, September 21, 2009

Can You Help Me Find Me

Good day. I wonder if you could help me, kind sir
I am in search of a man whose name is erased and face a blur
His whereabouts unknown, his past now totally forgotten
A memory in all not easily begotten

He lived in peace, showed all care
To them who needed, he had love to share
That was, sir, before it all came down
Before fate brutally robbed his joyful crown

Now, it seems, he is gone to a land unknown
A place where a hint of a smile is seldom shown
He is alone, although the room may be full
Distanced from laugh, happiness has lost its pull

Yet, dear sir, for this man I do bring light
His day has come to bring an end to the long night
Thank you, sir, for you helped me to find me
And gave me eyes which with the old land do I see

Wednesday, August 26, 2009

Things about me that I would put on Wikipedia

I have a speech writer on staff, so everything I say every day is actually scripted. If I pause and look like I’m listening to you, if you look very closely I have a tiny ear piece in my ear and I’m just waiting on my next line. It doesn’t work well if I get out of range that’s why I say stupid stuff sometimes.

Before I came to University, I came up with an idea for “hand de-sanitizer” for our government and other important people. So if our leaders were meeting with people they didn’t like they could “germ ‘em up”. I apparently brought this up to the wrong member of my city council.

I actually had such long legs as a child that my parents took me to a specialist in Prague and had them shortened. So technically I am 2 metres tall.

I once solved 99 problems in under a minute and in fact none of them were a bitch.

One time a cab driver told me that I was the most interesting person he had ever met. So interesting in fact that he not only said “hey this rides on me”. He’s now my butler and driver and all I have to pay him is in interesting stories. I ran out of stories but he’s old so I’ve just been telling him stuff from Indiana Jones movies for the past few months.

I invented the term “Pardon my French” accidentally when I ordered in French at a joint in Italy. Quite embarrassing when I had to re-order in Italian and then explain the whole ordeal in Japanese to my friend.

Robert Pattinson is based off me. No, not the character from the movie. I mean him the actual human being. I don’t know why people don’t notice my sexy accent or height or perfect cheekbones. It keeps me up at night.

My cellphone isn’t even connected to anything. Anytime I’m talking on it I am just recording my voice so I can have a conversation with myself later.

By some weird birth defect my body is made of 30 percent beer. So when I had house parties when I was younger I never had to get a keg, I just spit in my friends mouths. Kinda also accounts for my constant haziness and sluggish way of life.

I don’t really know how to play the sax. But I’ve just about gotten the hang of how to hold one.
“I don’t own 800 hoodies. I actually have them on loan. I rent them. Call me frugal.

I once blew a breathalyzer to perfect pi 3.1415926- the officer was so impressed that we had a drink and then i drove home to someone else’s house.

“Yesterday I was backing out of my driveway, and a dog ran over me. He told me he had insurance but when I called the number, it was for a pizza shop. That motherfucker.”

I’m not Jamaine Chiwaye, I just play him on TV.

I’m not Jamaine Chiwaye, I just play him in real life.

The actual Jamaine Chiwaye died on February 13th, 2006. The current is a scene kid who was heavily drugged and forced to undergo plastic surgery to resemble Jamaine Chiwaye. His days are spent in agony, his nights crying plastic tears.

Sunday, August 23, 2009

Times like these

I love sport. There is no secret there and most people who know me are well aware of that fact. I watched Wimbledon, follow Lewis Hamilton, support Manchester United, love the All Blacks and I just watched as England (who I was supporting) celebrated winning The Ashes Series. Big range huh? Unfortunately for me, sporting season last year was cut short by injury. Thus I was only able to play a few months of basketball and then watch from the sidelines, in my final high school year, as rugby was played. I wasn't allowed to play - doctor's orders. That's what tearing a tendon in your knee and still playing high level sport gets you! No regrets though!

Then 2009 arrived. Comeback year for Jamaine Chiwaye was on the cards. Bloody hell, it is very hard launching a comeback. To be honest there were a few times when I gave up, only to wake up the morning after hating myself. One of my greatest fears is looking back at what I've done (or haven't done) and wonder "what if?". by doing that, I will be accepting the fact that I didn't do myself justice and there was the possibility, however slim, of something great happening only for me to be afraid of the path to it. Greatness or whatever I could be aiming for is not guaranteed, but the fact that I did get up and run up that hill towards it ensures my raging conscience will be satisfied in knowing, beyond all reasonable doubt, that I tried to get there.

Now, looking back it is easy to say I'm glad I made an effort. I'm far from where I want to ultimately be, but I'm too far in to give up. Therefore I keep going. 'It's times like this that you learn to live again.' I now know that there is never a time I should shy away, failure will happen and it will definitely come. However, it is not an option for it is an occurrence that happened after all was tried and given towards success. Times like these call for character and heart. I believe in living life with no regrets. No "what ifs". It is too painful to think of what could have been. I will therefore walk up to that girl and say I like her, I will run up the hill no matter how hard it hurts. Just for the simple fact that I can, I should and I shall. No regrets... NEVER!!!

Top track: Times like these by Foo Fighters

Tuesday, August 18, 2009

I wish you knew

So I don't have a great deal of content on offer for this week. Rather, decided I would just post up a poem of mine and I do really think it will suffice. Hope you enjoy it and it makes you think.

I wish you knew

How could you have made this any different?
A way to pull me from this torturous lament
How could you have told me my tears were wrong?
Find a chord to change my sad and defeated song.

It could have been easier if I told you face to face
Then I would be promptly engulfed by your embrace
What if by seeing me, my eyes gave away too much
For you to then question why you care as such

I told you of façades and how false they may be
But without it you will see the broken and destroyed me
You begged and begged me to give up my heavy load
To open my locked heart, to break the code

Perhaps you were right, it is easier to tell
By doing so the looming waves would quell
Someday I will open and speak of my burdens in queue
But until that day I just wish you knew

*To all those who are ‘fine’, ‘great’, or just ‘ok’. The façade is always there to save, but the one to save you may be fooled by your façade.

Tuesday, August 11, 2009

Tri-Var playlist

Officially, it is just another week at school. Really? No. This is Tri-Varsity (Inter-Varsity sounds boring and weird) build-up week. All across Rhodes, overalls are being written and painted on. Hair is being dyed purple, floors are getting blotches of purple paint and fingers will be stained purple for a very long time (No ulterior connotation there, dirty mind!!!). All the bottle stores are going crazy stocking extra cases of beer, promo girls are getting out their short shorts and heels (yes please!). What is the best way to build-up excitement to an event other than a playlist of some awesome tunes? Thus, ladies and gentlemen, Rhodents and mere mortals, I present to you Jamaine Chiwaye’s Tri-Var Playlist!

I love college
– Asher Roth
Viva - Euphonik
Ainit no party like an alcoholic party - DJ Kicken vs. Mc-Q
Boom boom pow – Black Eyed Peas
Crack a bottle – Eminem ft. Dr Dre and 50 Cent
I don’t care – Fall Out Boy
In public – Kelis
Evacuate the dance floor – Cascada
Feel free – Ricky Blaze ft. Ron Browz
Rockin’ that shit (remix) – The Dream ft. Ludacris, Juelz Sanatana, Rick Ross
Open Happiness – Brendon Urie, Patrick Stump, Cee-lo, Travis McCoy and others
Mpitse – Hip Hop Pantsula (HHP)
On Fire – Da Les ft. Bongs & Mags
Fort Knox - Goldfish
I like you so much better when you’re naked – Ida Marie

Viva la Strike Action

Ah! The strike. Working class South Africa’s most favourite and prized pass time. Orchestrated to inconvenience the innocent , grant the strikers a few days off work and hit the vile employer where it hurts most – the pocket

Unfortunately, I, alongside thousands (if not millions) of others were part of the mass of innocents who have to suffer due to a labour dispute. Brought on via a chain effect from the doctors earlier this year, the municipal workers all over South Africa decided (after much bickering behind doors) that strike action was necessary. Then came the logic lacking of it all. As part of their strike plans, the bright sparks took to the streets and opened up rubbish bags and spread their contents on the streets. The catch? It’s their job to clean it! Why give yourself more work? If you are that desperate you can prostitute yourself at night! That will be more profitable and will leave the streets clean, well, sort of. Besides, they won’t be paid extra for cleaning up the mess they made! I highly doubt it is a pre-requisite of a civil-service job to have to be a blithering idiot who can’t think with any sense.

Then the chain’s link extended its rust link to the lower income members of Rhodes University’s staff. The price we have to pay is a dirty campus (municipal worker style) and horrible food. In earnest, I do abhor most strike action because it is irritating and looks horrible. However, I do know that strikes have to be granted by a labour judge and that is after repeated breakdowns in negotiations. Thus, if it were not for the fact that I get hideous dog vomit trying to pass as lunch, I would support the strike. Yet, because I do, please stop and get back to work! The terraces are dirty, the toilets smell and the food looks like it belongs in the toilet.

Post Scriptum: The title should be said with a French accent. Get it?

Tuesday, July 28, 2009

The Beginning

And so with a flurry of keyboard typing and searing red eyes Jamaine Chiwaye has officially joined the blogosphere or what ever jargon term there is as a collective for people who blog. Nevertheless, this is my blog, where I can write what I like and I get the opportunity to irritate more people than I do with my voice.

Topically, this blog will not claim to be the next best thing before Jeremy Clarkson but it will come damn close. Besides, I like Clarkson, if you don't it would be best advised to stop reading this blog now and waste your grey matter watching Fifth Gear.

I will try my best not to go on typing rants on this glorious blog, but I must warn you that if there is a topic that I feel so passionate or enraged by, I might just do that. These will include times of irritating and idiotic people in power, irritating people with no power, and anything so revolting that I just have to point out to the world (or my readers) that this is what I detest and will more or less urge you to follow suite.

Besides all the reading, there might be much else on this blog. There will be no links to sites showing 'cute' cats with grammatical issues and there sure as hell will not be links to a site profiling some new rap song. If you are looking for a blog that will profile or discuss some horribly constructed 'song' by a flavour of the week you are in the wrong place for the two reasons that A: I do not listen to rap, hip-hop or R & B unless the lyrical content is worth more than 3 minutes of concentration and B:I have an IQ that will be horrifically misused if I listened to guns, drugs and hoes.

That all being said, I earnestly hope you enjoy reading my posts in the future. The consistency of these posts will depend on whether the times clash with the next big party though!