I went for a run

I went for a run. A short run. On Wednesday afternoon, it the pleasant cold pre-dusk of a sunny winters day. I haven’t gone for a run since well, lets just call it forever (it was probably still the nineties, it was that long ago), so this was a REALLY BIG DEAL. It made my lungs hurt. A LOT. However, I managed to strike the balance so that the entire experience was so so entire horrifying that I would never want to go for a run ever again. Surprisingly too, my legs didn’t hurt afterwards, although I feared that they might.

On Thursday morning, whilst still feeling exuberantly proud of actually having gone for a run, Johnny B (a blogger which I frequently read) posted and entry on exactly the same thing – going for a run after forever, and fearing that it would hurt – which made me feel strangely connected with the world. It was almost like I was tapping into the collective subconscious of the blogosphere. This may or may not be what convinced me to go for another run Thursday. Bad idea.

Logic, as well as conventional wisdom had me convinced that if I stretched before and after my run, warmed up and cooled down well and ran exactly the same distance on Thursday as on Wednesday, my lungs will hurt again but my legs will not hurt (perhaps a little, but not significantly). Logic and conventional wisdom were both wrong. It hurt. It still hurts. After sleeping, more stretching and lavender-oil rubbing. And the question I ask is; WHY?

Janita likes to…

Because Anna from little red boat said so…

Janita likes to make things! And I do! I really really do!

Janita likes to tune to DAAd and let the A just drone. Not really sure what that means.

And because my name is not all that popular, this is REALLY all there was…

Just another cliche to add to the ones already prevalent on this day

Aww…Valentine’s day! How awesome! Cute couples everywhere, people walking around with flowers, people dressed to match the day… it all makes me want to vomit! Seriously, I thought that having a wonderful somebody to celebrate this not-so-wonderful day would somehow change my sentiment about it… It didn’t. I still think it’s lame and commercial and superficial (and that it often causes unnecessary trouble between  people due to unmet expectations). So lame, in fact, that I’m actually ignoring it in a way, trying not to mention it unless it is mentioned first. As I’m trying to actually ignore this day, I seriously tried not to wear red or pink or hearts or anything like that today. I failed. I failed because I was in a bit of a rush this morning and I just wanted to wear something that made me feel comfortable and good and like myself. Because I dress like it’s Valentine’s day every day; I’m always wearing something red (or pink) or some sort of heart accessory. (My red shoes are a current favourite). Not really for of any reason except that i like it… but maybe it’s connected to that intrinsic belief that it should  be Valentine’s day every single day.

I started a Blog, which Nobody read

I Started A Blog Nobody Read lyrics (By The Sprites)

I started a blog which nobody read
When I went to work
I blogged there instead

I started a blog which nobody viewed
It might be in cache
The topics include:

“George Bush is an evil moron”
“What’s the story with revolving doors?”
“I’m in love with a girl who doesn’t notice me”
“Nobody hates preppies anymore”

I started a blog but nobody came
No issues were raised
No comments were made

I started a blog which nobody read
I’ll admit it wasn’t that great
But if you must know here’s what it said:

“100 of my favorite albums”
“200 people I can’t stand”
“400 movies you must see soon”
“10 celebrities (4 of whom I might assasinate)”

I started a blog, I sent you the link
I wanted the world (and you) to know what I think

I started a blog, but when I read yours
It made me forget
what I had started mine for

(I’ve been threatening to post these lyrics for ages, because the are so apt wonderfully written… and arb. Gotta love it!)

The flight of the olive trees

I am flying back home tomorrow with not one, not two, but three young olive trees in my left hand/ ‘hand luggage’. I have absolutely no idea whether or not there are any regulations in this country against the transport of olive trees by air, and whether or not the poor, tried together meticulously packaged saplings will survive this great journey. Although it is bound to be the greatest adventure they will ever have, and when they are old the will probably tell their your seedlings about it under the glow of a Lowveld sunset…

I am a cliche… (for writing about this. Today)

Last night, the Springboks won the Rugby World Cup. Jay! Not Jay! in an oh-my-word-this-is the-most-awesome-thing-that-has-ever-happened kind of way, but just Jay! in a relieved kind of way. Yesterday afternoon, however, I found myself in a bit of a crisis; I didn’t know how I was supposed to act in a situation like this, South Africa being in the World Cup Final and all. Like all people like to blame their parent for their shortcomings, and I often like to blame my parents for my confusion in certain social situations. (It took me a while to figure out how one is actually supposed to act over weekends; I’m still not that great at it.)  This specific social situation was presented particularly large challenge. See; on 22 June, 1995 - when the Spingboks won their previous World Cup Final – my family was in the State Theatre watching The Merry Widow. Yes, one the the reasons for this is the fact that my family (read: my dad) are not the world’s largest rugby fans, but also because we got the tickets months before. We never expected South Africa to be in the final, and tickets for the opera are hard to come by! At least one of the actors worked the line ” I’ve got only one consolation for you; the Boks won 15-12″ into their performance. Jay for improvisation!

But see, last night I was confused about what I was supposed to do with myself? Was I supposed to continue with my reclusive plans and watch the rugby with half an eye (because I was curious, but rugby, as a sport, bores me visually), or was I supposed to get all psyched up, go to someones house, drink, celebrate, etc. even though I didn’t really feel like seeing anybody? I had no previous experience to fall back on for this specific situation, and all previous rugby matches have always been treated with a mild indifference. They would be watched if it so happened that you were watching them, but if you weren’t so what? I went with the former option; the chilled-out half-an-eye one. Feel free to call me a loser, unpatriotic, weird. I don’t care. I had fun. I love South Africa, and am incredibly proud of our team. I’m also particualarly glad about the general improvement in national morale that is about to occur. (I like it when other people are as positive about our country as I am.)I just didn’t feel like ‘kuiering’ last night just because everybody else was.

And for this, I shall blame my parents.

P.S. In the defence of my parents; yes, they are a little odd, but not all sporting events are treated with such indifference. Wimbledon is big! And I know for a fact that they watched the rugby last night. ANd I did watch a the game with half an eye; and it was equally boring to the game played on 22 June 1995.