The Value of Value

I spent most of the day thinking about value. Its a complex subject because when you start to analyse valuable, one realises that value comes in more than one form. It all started months ago when my ex fiance` and I broke up and I said that I wanted the microwave. You see, back in my single days....I had only one domestic item to my name and that was a microwave that had been given to me as a birthday present. In my life at that time, this microwave symbolised two main things:

• That I was grown up and had started building a house for myself
• The most valuable appliance in my house.

So when I moved in with Prince Charming and brought the symbol of my single life into our kitchen, he questioned the necessity of bringing my (quite broken by then) microwave into our new life. I realised that at that point...the value of my broken, noisy appliance was not tangible asset it had once been but was rather an abstract one. The value had changed. It was no longer valuable in monetary terms but it was the last shred of my independence and the product of my cold feet.... Anyway....eventually after we were engaged and he had promised to love me and look after me.....did I eventually relent to give up the microwave.

 Ironically....we broke up two or three months later...
And needless to say..... I took the new microwave.

 He put up quite a bit of a fuss, but relented to give it to me in the end after one of my award winning arguments. I was adamant! I left that relationship victorious with a brand spanking new Microwave (much nicer than the one I had) and..... a purple sex carpet! It was a symbol of my strength. Of my ability to carry on in the face of adversity and was very valuable to me. 

But months later, after it had been standing in the kitchen collecting dust because I have not cooked anything since we broke up, I suddenly looked at it one day and decided that I did not want it anymore and that I did not want to look at it. But .......what I did want...was hair extensions....

I loaded the microwave into the car, sold it for peanuts at non other than Cash Converters and bought hair extensions...and you know what?  As I was doing it I had to laugh at the absurdity of it all.  What is valuable today is worthless tomorrow not because value is unreliable but because are.

Do you want to be a vampire?

I'm not really the Vampire Diaries kinda girl but when you are broke and bored....one will stoop to all kinds of entertainment levels. And this is how I ended up watching the full season of Vampire Diaries (1)  twice! Yes...it was pretty bad... But it was during this marathon that the strangest thing occurred to me. And I must warn you in advance...its a stretch...but humour me for a moment.
Vampires are controlled by the lust for blood. they need it to survive but at the same time have an almost love/hate relationship to it. It borders on primal sexual bonds that can not be explained.

 I often get asked if I would want to be a vampire and my standard answer is no. I could not imagine the agony of living this life over and over again. Realistically, we would experience an existential crisis for centuries! Its torture! Having to watch everyone you know die, being completely alone for the rest of time. Why would I sign up for that!? I mean, Come on! Not to mention that you will never breath again, never taste anything other than blood again.... Everything you value and love will die or disappear through the ages and eventually all beauty will be gone. Its really not anything to envy...and yet when I answer no to the dreaded Vampire question I always get the most astonished looks!

So knowing my stance on Vampirism, you will understand how desperate I was when I watched this particular series but...... mid-series...like any good philosopher should...I started to question. And it went something like this:

• I am a waitress on weekends and it occurred to me that most people eat steaks rare or medium rare. Ideally this is how one should eat a fillet steak. We have conditioned ourselves to eat bloodly meat.
• The human species is carnivorous and sometimes cannibalistic.
• Due to the power shift in patriarchy, meat has become a symbol of power. The man must bring home the bacon!
• Ironically....the female body craves iron once a month. Iron which is easily found in a nice juicy steak!

And.... we are only half way through my argument! It gets better! If you agree with me, that the above is correct....and if not correct...at least plausible.... Then the following could also be plausible...

• There is no substitute to blood, its valuable because we cant recreate it. Blood is becoming more and more valuable as we progress further into "civilization". Predictably, in the future, blood will become a commodity. Link this idea to the taste humans have for meat and if taken away will create a blood lust hunger for blood.
•  The human mind is capable of the most perverse ideologies..
• And if this is even plausible the after effects could be the very point of insanity. A love/hate relationship for everything that lives.

Can you imagine living with that kind of jealously and guilt for centuries?! Its the very heart of darkness...the blackest soul.. Looking at yourself and realising.... YOU are the monster....

So do I want to be a vampire? No. I could not think of anything worse. But.... I have a suspicion that Vampirism is not such a far away concept.. And that we might.....just....get the chance to choose....

Plausible?

The start of something big.

                I started applying to government schools in the hope to firstly find a position that was permanent and secondly to start using my English teaching skills to help others instead of just profiting from it myself. I teach second language to international students who come to South Africa for business opportunities. It’s a profitable industry because as a TESOL teacher you get paid by the hour and because most of my students are adults; my biggest problem is relating the material to them. Two hours of “am, is and are” is not a bad way to earn a living, but as I am reaching my late twenties I am starting to feel the need to explore the opportunities available to me as an English teacher. I realised that for this to happen one must firstly start with the self and open the heart to these different opportunities.  So I started applying at schools in poorer township areas for just about any post available. I thought that for the right opportunity to come along, I would have to be open to everything and anything no matter how far out of my comfort zone it is. Applying at these schools is a challenging exercise because they don’t have the technological luxuries that we in the academic world are used to. Some of the Principals can speak only a small amount of English for basic communicative purposes which make the whole process even more painful and being a younger white woman does not help the situation at all. The South African education system needs more young educated teachers to join the ranks against poverty but the schools that really need the enthusiasm and resources of young teachers are hesitant to employ them. What you look like is very important.  They don’t hire white teachers and especially not young, pretty white teachers, so as you can imagine actually getting a post was difficult. I applied at this particular school twice before I got the phone call late on a Thursday afternoon.

                I remember walking into the school thinking that there are a lot of burglar bars and was asked to wait a few minutes by a short, fat woman with a big smile until the change of periods. Waiting in front of the office, I sat on the bench next to the security guard and a Grade 9 pupil who promptly told me he was in trouble for wearing his cap. He seemed really frustrated with the idea that he was not allowed to wear a cap in school and called it unfair. He seemed sweet and I soon made him crack me a smile with a little joke. When I was called in, I told him: “Be good and stay out of trouble!” To which he just smiled.

                My interview was conducted by the Principal and Vice principal who are both coloured men aged around 40 years old and I charmed the boots off of them. My best friend is coloured and I’d had lots of practice with her family, they were always a bit sceptical of Benetta Anne’s white friend.  I could see that the Principal and vice principal too were sceptical but thankfully they were in a non negotiable situation and needed me to start the following Monday. I agreed to a minimum wage and to take on English Grade 9 and English Grade 10. I was told not to worry that I would be filled in on Monday by one of the teachers. After the interview I felt a brief sense of euphoria but that was soon replaced with the crashing realisation that I would have to teach these kids who are basically a collection of the ‘worst’. Never mind that, I would have to maintain a certain level of classroom control! It seemed like a crazy, fruitless idea that would be a hugely challenging and that I’m actually not qualified to do. But I feel like I have done so much and have learnt so much that I’m a natural teacher. I really don’t try that hard, I just say what it is. So after a sleepless two nights, Monday morning arrived and I was introduced to the School as “Miss. Lourens”.  I was told not to park on the school premises as it would be much safer to park out in front of the school, where there is security. I also joined the morning devotions group as I thought I may need a little extra help with this one. Devotions in the morning is mostly a group of women and the Principal and vice principal. The first morning I was there, I held hands with my Principal while we prayed. The teachers that are in this group make my heart swell. They have been teaching for 20 or 30 years and the conditions that they are forced to teach under are appalling, yet everyday they come to this school and plan for poverty outreaches and welfare schemes. They sell cakes at break time to buy a wheelchair for a boy in New Brighton. But I can see in their eyes how they hold on to the strength that they get from their God. How they rely on him to face the onslaught of mini gangsters and try to create hope for tomorrows children. This is why I go every morning. I am the first one there and I put the kettle on.  When we pray, I bow my head in respect for these people who are fighting the good fight against all odds and when it was my turn to take devotions I praised them with the words of their God.  These people are very different from me and where I come from. They are community people who have known each other since schooling days and it is them that hurt when someone in their communities are hurt or bullied by the gangsters that rule their suburbs. They live in fear of being shot over the weekend by the very students that they teach. It’s a commitment to education and the children of this school that goes way past what most of us would find acceptable. And yet they continue to do good for children who don’t appreciate it and their communities that are in abject poverty.

It Cant Fit On Canvas

I saw this painting in my heart. I knew that I needed to paint it but I didn't understand why. At first I was skeptical because painting a large heart is kinda kitch but the idea became more and more persistent and eventually I relented. Kitch or not, may I present to you the elusive human soul. Symbolically the heart represents a out of space view of the world. This represents the fact that you are, what you know and you are human because of your perception of earth when it is the earth itself that represents humanity because without it there is nothing. The heart that doesn't fit on the canvas represents the impossibility of caging or explaining human emotion.