Tuesday, 11 March 2008,
I’m ready to take on the day, to get down and really work, that kinda work that maks you feel good afterwards. Damn, now I’m tired.
Time to goof around on the internet I was digging through my old blogs and found the You Are Here blog, thinking back and remembering how much fun I had writing it, and I thought – “hey, why not do it again.” So, I think that the time has come for me to write again.
I’ve always wanted to write, you know – books and crap like that. At one stage I even considered it as a career. Finish School, go to varsity, get a job writing something. But that middle bit just seemed like too much of a mission. In addition I was always afraid that I’d be, well, you know…kak. But that’s where you come in. Ja jy.
I’m going to write this letter slash diary slash bitch and moan sessie and send it to you. YOU encompasses anyone who was simpel enough to call themselves my friend, or stupid enough to give me their e-mail address. Or both. The beauty part of all this is that you don’t need to go out and buy it. I’ll shove it straight into your inbox or tag you in facebook, whether you like it or not. And I know you’re to bloody nosey not to read it. Now some of you might be thinking “‘se moer,” I’ll just delete that damn thing.’ And that’s where Plan B comes in – The Surprise Phone Call (said in Std 2 singsong voice). I’ll phone your ass and ASK you what you thought of the letter. Half of you are too slap gat to reply via e-mail anyway.
The next question that faced me was a biggie – what the hell could I possibly have to say that you would want to read? Well, I realized quite a bit actually. This letter is about me; (and you). We don’t see each other much – life, work, studies, boyfriend, girlfriend, pet goldfish, bla bla bla. This, for me, is a way to keep in touch, even if you don’t write back. At least I’ll know that I’ve tried to be a better friend, so you can be the one that feels kak when you eventually bump into me at Canal Walk. By accident. Again. (this does not apply to Damien – please no bumping).
I want the letter to be about life, ambition, weekends and most importantly, my friends. I want you guys to write me if you liked something I said, or didn’t like something I said, or felt that there was something that I should’ve said. I want to send your letters out too (edited, of course – mens wiet nooit met julle skollies nie). And I want to have fun. This could also be a great way to let everyone know what you’re up to for the weekend, which parties you’ll be at, which club you’re going to hit. You get the idea. Send me a mail with your plans, and if someone wants to meet you there, then away you go. Even if they can’t (don’t want to) meet you there, at least they can ask how it was, and did you have fun. ‘Cos that’s what friends do.
Now, I’m planning on sending this thing out once every two weeks or so, probably on Monday or Tuesday morning. If for some reason, the letter forgot the directions to your inbox, it is not because I forgot/overslept/had a babelas. It is because the entire internet is broken and there was no way to send it (despite my superhuman efforts). This happens from time to time, as my boss can confirm. On a real note, if you don’t get the letter, e-mail Damien. He won’t be able to help, but 8 times out of ten it’ll be his fault that the letter is late. At least then he can tell you how much fun we had that weekend. If you can’t get hold of Damien, try Grant – it’ll be his fault the other 2 times.
I guess that pretty much sums up what I wanted to say this week. Now you – yes YOU, reply to this and let me know what you think. Tell me what you wanna hear about, what you wanna know about, where you wanna go and who should be added to this list. Oh – and if I sent you this, but you don’t particularly care for me, please let me know. That way the next time I see you, I can know to be sour and moerig with you. Winter’s coming and I’ve got some boep to lose, and since being befok burns twice as many calories as being jolly, you too can help.
So have a kak day, stomp around the office, push a student down Jammie steps, burn some calories being befok. Whatever. Just don’t tell anyone I told you to do it.
Till next time,