the most expensive parking ticket

a few weeks ago i bought a lee child novel for R30 (a STEAL) from a CNA clearance sale- I started reading it on my last expedition to cape town last week. having met the impossible Jack Reacher in the previous novel, I was immediately gripped from page 1 of the new book, as Jack walked a lonely road in Colorado.

on monday evening i was reading it at the Mugg and Bean @ Greenstone mall. (my 3rd office) - and when i went to pay my R5 parking charge at the pay station, i left the mind-gripping novel on top of the pay station.

being unable to resolve myself to the thought of not knowing what happened next, i had to repurchase the book for a whopping R100.

its amazing what power a story has to consume your imagination - even to the point where paying R75 for parking is a totally reasonable expense.

not the full picture

recently i visited a new church. during the time of singing there were 3 screens available to read the words. the one directly in front of me was the biggest screen with the sharpest display. the colours were brighter and the images very crisp. unfortunately there was a strip of pixels missing on the left of the screen such the rectangle was not symmetrical.

i only realised on my drive home that i spent the whole service looking at one of the other 3 displays even though it was slightly blurry and was at a bit of an angle to me, making the words a little harder to read.

and that's when i realised that we would rather have the full picture than a pretty one. i think that logic applies to more than just choosing what projector screens to look at.

rusting on the inside

when i first started to at work in February 2009, i remember that my colleague showed me around the building. There really is not that much to an office park - especially mine. "Here is the bathroom, here is where you park, here is your desk, here is the kitchen" blah blah. At some point during the mini-tour of the kitchen, in between being shown where the mugs are and where to find the ever-elusive teaspoons, i was warned not to "ever use the wall-urn due to the fact that if you looked very carefully, you could see that there was a certain level of oxidation where boiling hot water had caused there to be impurities on the tip of the tap that dispensed (and thus contaminated) the water." ... her advise to me was simply to "use the kettle"...

it seemed ridiculous but i kept my mouth shut - it was my first day after all.

some time recently, while waiting for something in the microwave, i just felt an urge to peek into the kettle. turns out that the element at the bottom of the kettle is in pretty bad shape and is FAR more oxidised / corroded / pollutive than the tip of the tap of the wall-urn.

and then i learnt these lessons:

• sometimes it really is possible to notice the 'speck' somewhere else and become content with the 'log' that we don't even know exist in our own lives.
• sometimes what me make a fuss about really doesn't matter - we have all been drinking hot water for years without incident.

and so i am left wondering about the things i warn people about that i am guilty of practicing without my knowledge, and if the things that we sometimes get hung up on really matter for anything.

on that note, it is time for a cup of coffee and to get stuck into the numbers...

what frustrates you?

Yesterday afternoon I decided to take my Macbook to the local Mugg and Bean (coffee shop) and sit on the wireless internet doing a few updates and getting a few things sorted that I had started to feel were rather pressing. As I was locking my house the gate remote slipped out my hand and fell with a force greater than gravity against the floor. Smash.

Quickly forgetting the incident, I hopped into my car, drove up the driveway and approached the gate only to find, surprisingly, that the gate would not open. It is frustrating to be locked inside your own apartment. My blood pressure started to increase from now.

Arriving at my table I opened my Mac, only to find it completely unresponsive. No lights, no noises. Nothing. Instead of making me worried, it made me angry. I tried the usual: playing with the plug, unplugging it, replugging it, removing the battery, blowing on it - just in case, reinstalling. I even went as far as resetting the machine's CPM (central power management) system. Nothing. Just anger.

I wanted to go home and sulk. And just as I had finished packing my things to go, my friendly waitron delivered a boiling hot cup of coffee with hot milk (exactly what I had asked for a few minutes earlier). That then made me angry. The steam off the milk made annoyed me - I remember thinking: 'if this was cold milk I could drink this coffee quickly and be on my way sooner and that's what I want..."

Approaching my gate, still annoyed with broken technology and muttering a bit to myself, i stretched my hand into my car door to push the button that would (normally) open the gate for me... silly thing to do really. My blood just boiled a little more as I parked outside my complex and used the side gate to let myself in.

I will never forget the calm that came over me as I walked back to my flat. It was unexpected and so I listened. It was as though the dark clouds in my head parted for a second and I felt the voice of Wisdom teaching me... using my weakness and irritation to reveal something to me. God asked me how annoyed I get with an 'offence against the Kingdom of heaven' (that's what He called it, not me)...

There are things worthy of my irritation: rape, addiction, deceit, abuse, tv religion, poverty. But a broken computer is not allowed to be on that list. And nor is milk - regardless of its temperature.

space for the dreamer

there is space in this world for those that dream. creative type people who think, and draw, and imagine.
there is a space in the economy for those that can turn good ideas into cashflow.

it feels as though the world is starting to favour these types more in the 21st century, and so it should - as the world is ‘blanded up’ by accountants and engineers, good imaginative ideas become undersupplied to the global population, making them more valuable. causing them to have a price-tag. creative types can earn a living by being creative.

and this is good news for writers, singers, authors, actors, photographers, designers and story-tellers - our imagination waits and loves to be captured...

stop and start

so tonight i tried something - just for fun. and for economy. i drove back from veriniging at 70km/h the whole way. the 70km took me hour. oh the elegance of it. the purpose was simple : I really want to drive 1000km on one tank of petrol (i have only achieved this once before).
anyways, when i was leaving veriniging i had to make my way through about 5 stop streets. i decided to do something illegal and not stop at any of them. it was quite clearly for a good purpose so i did not feel bad.
just before the first of five ‘suggested stopping areas’, at a single lane section, i had a white car with brighter than normal lights right up my rear. i am quite sure that his front number plate was trying to get my rear one’s number. he proceeded to overtake me on a solid line right before a second lane opened up. he stopped at the stop street and i just cruised up alongside, and then ahead of him again.

this carried on through 5 stop streets. he would get ahead of me - stop at the stop sign and i would just fly through and overtake him momentarily. i am sure that he was really annoyed with me - but i was enjoying the experience. and also the lessons:

1. slow and steady is just as good as short bursts of speed, if not better. its funny how the rabbit and tortoise mean nothing until you see them run.
2. the guy in the white car with brighter than normal lights was no doubt annoyed because i was being irresponsible and breaking the law yet he was also guilty of transgression when he overtook me on the solid line. how often am i quick to condone my actions and more than ready to become upset by the misgivings of others. i know i keep two sets of measures in my head - one that i use on myself and one that i use on other people.

for those more interested in the numbers of it all, i managed to get home in 59 minutes, using an average of 5.9 liters / 100km. provided i meet more deserted stop streets i should just make it.

fear of loss

Last night my car got stolen... along with my wallet (in my car)... along with my diary containing my internet banking username etc. I got an sms saying that the account that I have been using to save up for my MBA had been cleaned out. It all happened so fast.

You know sometimes how when you wake from a dream and within an instant you go from wild panic to uncontainable relief? I’m sure you’ve had it - you flip over on to your back, take stock of where you are, look through your phone messages just to make sure that the bank didn’t sms you after all. And breathe out.

Relief. I was dreaming. I have lost nothing.

But I realised something rather significant: I own things that are important to me. And in fearing to lose them, I have lost something already.