Creating Shadows

I can't remember the last time a wrote on my blog... actually wonder if I should feel embarrassed.

haha when I started typing I was sure I had something important to say, but now I can't remember what it was.

Oh yes, this might seem trivial and selfish, but it is MY blog, my space to vent, sjoe surely I shouldn't have to substantiate my self... must be because I feel guilty?

I was thinking to myself the other day, sitting on the Kaif lawns watching all the students walk by and how different each one was and how even though they were different most were friends with each other. That is there wasn't this constant flock of the same people together.

Yet when I'm in Richards Bay, the case is entirely different and to belong to a group or to have any kind of friend you have to fit into their description of what is acceptable dress and behaviour...

I have now come to the conclusion that I need to live to very separate live, and have to separate identities, not that Rhodes doesn't accept the Richards Bay, but that the Richards Bay me is a allot more reserved and in short isn't really what I want to be. So one could assume that the Rhodes identity is the real me, but even this is wrong, since I tend to drop a few of the loved habits of mine that come out when I'm back home, but only because it is more of am inside joke and language than out of trying to be accepted by my friends back here.

Let me point out quickly that I do not look to be accepted, but I do like any other individual enjoy being part of a group.

I just wish Richards Bay could some how turn from its childish manner of putting people into boxes and thus excluding themselves form experiences that could be diversified by contact with the less acceptable dress code. Almost all back home have this closed mindset that is set in the present now and doesn't seem to accept change so readily unless the head macho of coolness deems it so. People need to be more accepting and challenging, that is not believe in a right or wrong, but actually challenge the ideals and new ideas in a rational manner that allows one to accept the notion for what it is, but then still be able to develop their own identity around it with out be shunned or frowned at.

Hopefully my little rant makes sense, and it is not just a jumble of hot emotion, don't strive to be objective, but I do strive to accept possibilities outside my boundaries with out allowing it to influence me against my will.

Omg doing that video was so much fun, i just had to do another one!

In this video, its my ex, Loyd Morton, Me and my two friends Stephanie Cocraine in the white shirt and Louise Van Niekerk.

What people get up to in Richards bay, the girl in the white jacket is my sister and the other girl is our freind...

Allow me to show you
Some unmanagable place
As cruel as hell
Might ever be
Or dark
As summer's midnight
When the clock chimes.
More than twelve,
And some four years.
I let my blood bleed
And you left me,
My heart in my hand
With no supple beat.
But that of the drum major
Playing my ebony
Funeral tatoo.
Your tears fall fake.
Is that all my sorrows worth?

Everything went wrong when I met you. Met my hearts return. You let me fly at loves throat and put decisions in my hands, where only the burning stars paid silent witness in our passing passions. Then you left me to fall. Spiraling down until I felt the firm ground beneath me, some weird security that put me back on my feet.

How you broke my little heart. You squashed it, tore its fine ligaments, shattering and stamping it into the dirt and turned it back to me. The worst of all tortures. You left my heart wholly whole in my hands. You did not steal a piece, not even for keep sake.
My heart would of beaten stronger if you had taken half. But you gave it back to me whole. If only to show you cared, I would have been happier to receive a slice of it. To know somehow that you still wished to care about some bit of me.

But no! You instead believed I cared for my whole heart, that turning away what I had given you would hurt less and keep away my stainless grief. So silently wrong was your proposal and so I let it slip between my fingers, let my heart ache be cured tears and sleepless nights in mourning for my returned heart. Used goods as it should aptly be labeled.

And then my shattered silence fell and turned. My strangled throat wrought raw and red, warmed to delight in sorrow. And to tare flesh enraged, the wild fire rolling in my eyes. This yearning for revenge became my powerful weapon.

Cunningly it sits and broods on my breast, filling the place of my dejected heart. Desolate irrational soul, that takes delight in mischief of a dangerous kind. My mind could be touched. (Raving in sorrow or bent on revenge) So slight the touch I could indeed deem it illusion or angelic.

And for my own priceless sake I should believe my vices are my strengths, just so I don’t cry myself to sleep again, or keep myself awake with my own reckless sobs. So sad. The contours of my face, white washed without my heart. My pallor cold and damp, yet I see and know and believe. And still I live.

The heart remembering at times the bruises you left, the soft pain so unfairly felt when my heart beats faster. If memory played in harmony with my heart it only pushed more merrily at my hurts. But my Whole heart goes on. Each drum beat sounded, announcing my arrival. My parting from this dark clay you clad me in.