Cumberbatch

No.  I am not a Cumberbitch.  I hate the word.  It’s disgusting how it generalises women by one interest.  Can’t I thoroughly enjoy an artist’s craft without my admiration being likened to sexualised worship? Besides, Benedict Cumberbatch himself said “Cumberbabes” would have been a softer option- although, still objectifiable.    

  

I am not a groupie, but I cannot deny that I am mad about Benedict Cumberbatch.  I wasn’t always a fan.  I was first exposed to his acting in the film, Atonement.  He was the paedophile who ruined James McAvoy’s dreams to go to medical school and marry Keira Knightley.  I hated him, because I was all about McAvoy (still am).   Then he played Mary Boleyn’s loser husband in that offensively inaccurate biopic about the Boleyn Girls. 

Of course I was surprised when I heard about the Cumberbitch phenomenon.  I did not understand the hype around this giant British guy and his awkward face.  I had only seen him in supporting roles, and no one remembers those people.  I was keen on watching the BBC series Sherlock until I found out Cumberbatch was the lead. 

But I was young and stupid back then.  One episode of Sherlock and I was charmed by his talented performance, understated good-looks and that British wit.  So much so, I drew up a list of all the things I love about Cumberbatch.  

  

10.  He is British

Thanks to Hugh Grant, we all have a thing for posh British guys.  If Cumberbatch was American, he probably wouldn’t be as-cool.  Also the British gave us cricket, fish ‘n chips, Will Shakes, the Beatles and other cool pop-culture stuff.  Cumberbatch is one of them.    

9. Great looks

At first, I didn’t notice.  But after two episodes of Sherlock, you warm up to that dark hair, those deep blue eyes and kissable lips.  He’s not a poster boy, nor is he a man’s man.  He’s unconventional and that’s attractive.   

       

8.  Bad boy factor

It’s a cliché, but he has mastered playing the role of a villain and a hero.  Bad boy Cumberbatch is different because he’s intelligent.  If he insulted you, that would be a complement.  

7.  Sherlock Holmes

This should have been higher on the list, but I thought it was obvious.  He plays Sherlock  and a bloody good version too.  If you thought Downey was good, you are mistaken.  He is Sir Arthur Conan Doyle’s high functioning sociopath incarnate. 

6.  He CAN act

He has this ability to transform himself into the character he’s playing.  He totally immerses himself in the role.  I watched him portray Australian Julian Assange, with the lisp in tow.  He can do a great Western American accent.  His versatility is commendable.  I have seen him do off-the-cuff impressions in interviews, and it is breath-taking to watch. 

5.  Harrison Ford

I watched an episode of the Graham Norton Show with Cumberbatch and Harrison Ford.  Long story short- Harrison Ford is a big fan of his.  Well, that settles it. 

4.  All in the name

Benedict Cumberbatch- say it out loud, it packs a punch.  I bet kids didn’t pick on him at school probably because all the syllables made him sound so cool.  It’s not a superstar’s name, and that adds to the element of surprise.  If it’s not already, it will probably become a catch phrase soon- “What the Cumberbatch?”  or “Check out my Cumberbatch moves”  or “You’re so Cumberbatch”.      

3. New leading man

As stated before, Cumberbatch was cast in supporting roles, before he hit the big time (Sherlock).  Ever since he's starred in Oscar nominated movies, one of the recent ones being August Osage County.  Also, I can’t wait for him to take on Moriarty when the new season of Sherlock returns.

2. Anonymity

I love how he’s not famous.  (He almost turned down his role in Sherlock because he didn’t want to become famous).  He’s only popular amongst certain circles (all the Cumberbatch fans I know are smart people- that’s just a general observation from an objective third party person with absolutely no personal interest in the matter). 

1. Cumberbatch

The Cumberbatch-effect is this phenomenon where this British guy who is just doing is job, gets written about and spoken about by these strangers from all over the world.  They’re not talking about him because he does his job really well, or because of his looks or his personality.  Those things are secondary.  They’re talking about him because he’s novel.  You can’t compare him to the likes of Pacino, Nicholson or Washington.  He's different.  He’s “other”.  He’s Cumberbatch.     

August Rush

Time has this rude habit of running out on a person.  The older I get, there seems to be less of it to go around. 

This thing all things devours; Birds, beasts, trees, flowers; Gnaws iron, bites steel; Grinds had stones to meal; slays king, ruins town, And beats mountain down- J. R. R. Tolkein (The Hobbit).

It is one of our most valuable commodities, yet we live as though there is an unlimited supply of it. We forget that irretrievable moments are attached to those seconds, that keep slipping away. 

There is the flip-side, where we are so focused on getting through the endless list of things we have to do within a limited time-frame.  We neglect to do the other things that do not fall on the list.  Those things may be the difference between a great mood or a miserable one. 

We are chasing a lead, and time has a head-start.  The unfair disadvantage is that we are left with the consequences of rushed decisions. 

If mastering time-management is part of adulthood then I am failing dismally.  I have developed a bad habit of scheduling time with my friends and then bailing on them to complete other tasks. 

The horror is knowing about these tasks well in advance and then delaying them to the point where the time dedicated to them runs over to parts scheduled for things of "lesser" importance.  Those "things" often happen to be people. 

It must be because negotiations are welcome with people.  They are always open to hearing excuses and they seem to understand, well at least they pretend to.  Tasks are different.  If they are not completed then they just haunt until they finally get done. 

So with the eighth month of the year entering its final week, people start re-examining the year's resolutions.  These reflections are useful for restructuring and addressing management issues. 

Living towards deadlines is never ideal.  But it is so easy to get caught in that trap.  Once a task is completed, the next one automatically springs up.  We become so self-consumed in this race.  What is the point?  What is the point of trimming the hedge when no one smells the roses?  What is the point of having friends when there is no time set aside to see them?

Living rushed lives means we live past each other.  We neglect the things that add quality to life and we are left with regrets about wasted time.   

            




    

     

As You Are

Death, in the beginning, makes you aware of the absence you will feel for the rest of your life.    

It was July of my second year, I had one last macro-economics exam left for the semester.  I decided to stay at uni for the weekend to study, despite being told that my grandmother was being administered morphine to numb the pain of her bone cancer.

I thought, "Gee, I only have one exam left and then I will be able to go home and see her again within a week".  That was the Friday.  On that very Friday, my heart was pulling towards home but my mind was persisting to stay, with logic and discipline.   The following Sunday, while I was curled up in my warm bed, I was awoken by a phone call.  A phone call I wasn't ready to answer.  A phone call I wish I never answered.

Sure I was sad for a few days.  Then there was the reassurance that she was in a better place.  I didn't let it soak and become musty.  I let it run through me... built the altar and left the sacrifice to burn out.  But the smell of smoke lingered on me. You lose something in it, but you take something from it.

The last time I saw her, I forgot.  I know that the last time I saw her she was lying in a coffin... and I know the second last time I saw her she was lying in a bed.  But I forget the last time I saw her as she was.  And with each day I forget more and more.  And I only remember the absence, what it's like when she isn't around.  You lose something, but you take something else.

I forgot what it feels like when she's around, but I know what it feels like when she's not around.

In the past three years, more people I know have slipped out of mortality.  Some of them were just acquaintances, others were friends and some were people who were dear to people that are dear to me.

If people you know are dying, how different does that make you?  What sets you apart?  When will you stop breathing?  When will your presence cease? When will your absence begin?  And who will remember you as you were?

You think people care about you as much as you care about yourself.  You think your company is valuable and that you are leaving a significant mark on the world.  Do people see you as you see yourself?  As you are, you are forgettable.

My grandmother was a brilliant human being, wise, kind and respectable.  But those are adjectives I am comfortable using to describe her because the memories I have of her are leaving me.  I don't know her smell anymore.  I don't know her voice without thinking of the words she use to say.  I can't remember the colour of her eyes without looking at a photograph.  And if I do remember something about her,  I can't trust that it is, as she was.

The smoke may linger in the beginning, but it wears off.  You get immersed in other smells and then you are left with hints of it that come and go, depending on the direction the wind takes.

Death, in the end, is the absence you will leave behind.  The absence of you, as you are.





 

Full Circle

A year ago I was getting ready for the Absa Capital Pioneering Young Women Conference.  I was scared.  I did not know what to expect.  I did not want to go anymore.  I had to psych myself up just to move an inch out of my comfort zone.  I “opened” my mind to it.  I put myself “out there”.  I went through with it.  In the end, it turned out to be one of the best decisions I made for my life.

You see, for many years I dreamed of being a journalist.  I wanted it so badly it hurt just to think about it.  It felt like someone had driven a knife through my heart every time I thought about writing and how I was not doing it.  I was angry.  I was miserable.  I was kept from the thing I loved and I was convincing myself to make my situation work.    

It was hard.  I was lost.  My friends were making adult-decisions, and I was… not.  They were driven and excited about their futures.  I was driven and excited by socks with the days of the week on them, it worked wonders for my laundry schedule.  They were all going for job interviews and I was working out a system to categorize my rejection letters. I was failing at some standard of “life” I created.   

And then this conference came along.  It was like rain that came after a drought.  I met some brilliant women (whom I have already written about).  It unlocked a valuable lesson that steered me into destiny: Do what you love.        

So a year later, I found myself on a plane to the Motherland.  Doing that very thing.  That thing that makes your heart beat faster.  That thing that gives you a rush that surpasses infinities in one moment.  That thing that brings you to your knees with humility.   

That thing that is so scary it is crippling, so you do your best to move forward so that you do not sink into darkness.  That thing that makes you vulnerable and happy at the same time.  That thrill.  That thing you know is the right thing, because you have never been so dependent on God’s grace for life.  

Sure, it takes courage to do it.  That is because things are hard to do on your own.  But those are your dreams, no one else’s.  You cannot expect someone else to share the same passion you have for it, or to complete tasks with the same commitment.  The fire is in YOUR heart.  It is YOUR adventure. It is what YOU love.   

I have only been doing journalism for six months.  What I know is: I am happy when I am working, and I am miserable when I am not working.  And even though I have three jobs and no money- I am rich in the experiences that have grown me. 

Someone told me that my face lights up when I talk about it.  She told me she wished she felt the same way.  She wished she loved what she was doing.      

 Do what you love.       

The Father

My dad asked if I wrote him a blog post for Father's Day.  I was surprised that he asked, especially because this year I was going for the "I'd rather tell you face to face how awesome you are than take up space on the internet and propagate more anti-social behaviour" thing.  But hey, writing about my dad seemed like a good opportunity to involve The Father.

2 Corinthians 6:18 And I will be a Father to you, and you shall be My sons and daughters, says the Lord Almighty.  (Amplified)

There is something about a dad's approval that sets it apart from the opinions and recognition of other figures.  It carries more weight and it has a greater impact on your actions than you may acknowledge.  Knowing that he reads everything I publish means a lot, and I bet my brother runs a little faster just because he knows dad is watching him on the track.   His criticisms count more than any complement we would get from anyone else.  His complements outweigh any criticisms we would get from anyone else.  

This may sound like an obvious statement, but it is as if we were designed to be fathered.  Like, as soon as we were born we were made to reach out to the place we felt most safe. Like, we were made to run towards open arms.  Like, we were meant to make someone proud without having to do anything extraordinary.  Like, we were meant to be swept up in unconditional love without having to secure it.  Like, blessings were meant to run over us without us having to do anything to earn them.  Like, we were meant to be heirs of a kingdom we have not yet seen because we were born sons and daughters of a King we will see.

My dad has set an example of the peace, grace and love my brother and I can have in The Father.  For years I lived as though God was a spiritual entity, detached from me.   But before I met my parents, before I felt their love, He was the first.  He fathered me first.  He loved me first.  And the story of my life is His gracious pursuit of it.  He is dad.  We just do not believe it as well as we should.  

We struggle to trust His words or promises because we do not think of Him as dad.  Only to find, He is the Father we have spent our lives searching for.  His approval, His opinions, His complements, His hopes for our lives, His infinite joy, His incomparable love, His unlimited grace; His fatherhood, that is what we are drawing towards.  And He is the only one designed to fill that role flawlessly.  

Medically infants cry to receive oxygen for their organs to start working, but I am convinced the real reason they cry is because they realized they were detached from dad.  And they got scared because they were not sure they would ever see Him again.  He knew we needed Him, so He gave us someone like Him to hold onto in the meanwhile.  

Whether that person was your actual father, or whether someone else had to double up as your father, the good news is that your real dad is The Father and you can live with the hope that you will see Him again.  

Thanks dad, for showing us the face of The Father.  

Thanks Dad, for showing us your face through our father.  

  

 

 

How to lose a guy in 10 minutes

I hate talking about dating, and I hate that it occupies so much space in our conversations (if you were a woman, you would know what I am talking about).  But a guy told me that the first time he met me, he thought I was crazy.  Well, I have been told a number of times that I was strange.  I have accepted that I am not  first impression-friendly and I am genuinely sorry for making anyone feel uncomfortable.  But I am not apologizing for being me.   

As a woman you are constantly judged.  If you are not too needy, you are too independent.  If you are not too loud, you are too quiet.  If you are not too ditzy, you are too smart.  If you are not too skinny, you are too fat.  If you are not too pretty, you are too... nope, you can never be too pretty.  Speaking of pretty, how is my pure intellect supposed to compete with that?  Seriously it is insulting.  

Unfortunately, first impressions last.   Here is a list for you to chuckle at and nod your head in agreement, because you know as well as I do, how true this is. 

First impression fails

1. You love Jesus. 

You do realise this guy is going to have to compete with the unconditional love Jesus has for you.  That is way too much pressure.  Poor guy, let him tap out. Shem.  

2. You laughed.

Maybe you genuinely thought his joke was funny, but someone told you once that you laugh like Charlie Brown (What does that even mean?  You were not even sure Charlie Brown could laugh).

  

3.  You keep talking about your brother.

What?  Do you have a crush on your brother?  Sure he is a nice guy, even your friends think he is cool, but after Jesus, that is one more guy in your life too many.

4.  You said you want children.

Let us backtrack, at what point in an initial meeting with a guy did you think it was safe to mention procreation?  With that statement you may have single-handedly ruined him for all women.

5.  You are so smart, you sound stupid.  

This is a common case where your mouth moves too slowly for  the words to come out soon enough.  So when you said "I want to be married at 25" you really meant to say "I believe that monogamy is in the best interests of society."  Also, being so incredibly smart alienates you socially, learn to live with it.

6.  You are not smart enough.  

Okay, you are smarter than the average girl, but this guy happens to be a genius in a field you find useless.  There are only so many times you can nod your head in agreement  and say "wow" before he realises you are a fraud, and not in the Mike Ross way.

7.  You said nothing the whole time.

This after you heard him specifically tell a friend that he does not notice girls who do not engage him in conversation.  

8.  You thought it was cool that he knew all the words to Katy Perry songs.

His boyfriend thinks so too.  This is a classic case of misdirection.  Now it is your turn to tap out.  Honey, you would not even know how to begin to compete.  Trust me, this is not your guy.  

9.  You had your serious face on.

Yes you are having a hard week, there are tests and assignments, but all he is wondering is, "Is she constipated? "  You probably are, mentally.  But your game face just gives off "Bitch I will cut you!" vibes.

10.  You did not wear make-up.

Sure, you are all for natural beauty, besides you have sensitive skin.  But he does not care about your allergies.  He cannot look into your almond shaped eyes if they are not framed with eyeliner and he can not kiss chapped lips (Gross- would you?).  All those girls, Emma Stone, Jessica Alba and Rachel Weisz use Revlon for their blemishes.  (Seriously though?  You thought natural beauty was a thing?)

11.  You wore clothes.

Maybe if you pranced around naked, more guys would open doors for you.  You would certainly get more attention.

12.  You left your hair curly.

I know you like curls and the sleek look is generic and overdone.  But he cannot run his fingers through your hair.  Screeches are not romantic.  Besides, why would he make an effort if you did not?

13.  You are not easy.

You are too much effort.  He was trying to flirt but you could not pick up his hints because you thought he had a cold which made his voice sound like that, or maybe there was something in his eye because he was winking so much.  It is like when you have to explain a joke to someone, once you unpack a punchline, it is just not funny anymore. 

14.  You punched him.

Ooh, too soon.  So, you were so desperate to touch him, the only way you knew how was to punch him?! 

15.  You are that girl.

You know, the cool one.  But he does not know yet because his 10 minutes are up.  If he could not stick around for you for more than 10 minutes, then he probably was not worth your time anyway. 

So, do not be sorry about someone who was not man enough to accept the challenge that is you. 

Do not be sorry about someone who prejudged you before he got to know you better. 

Be sorry about compromising your character to impress someone with whom you might not have a future.  And be sorry about not valuing the freedom of being yourself.    

Mum

It is the fifth year I will not be home for Mothers Day.  I guess if you keep telling yourself, "there's always next year," eventually next year becomes five years later.

I love my mother. I can not stop talking about how much I love her.  So much so, my friends think she is awesome.  And she is.  She is wise, and kind and has a killer sense of style.  Genuine- when I wear the clothes she picks out for me, people actually complement my dress.

But I miss her.  I miss talking to her about irrelevant things I worry about, and then listening to her tell me that I should not worry about irrelevant things.  I miss her curries, the way she makes hot chocolate, her fingers running through my hair to set it right, when she dusts the back of my shirt, her hugs before she leaves and indeed, her screeching voice when I do something wrong.  

When I do not know what to do, I quickly try and think about what my mother would do in the same situation.  She is the first person I call when something important happens.  She is the first person I call when I am in trouble.  I call her first, just because.  Her opinion matters most.  She is my person.  She is my home.  She was my first home.  She is the reason I call home.  And wherever she will be, is home.    

She knows me.  She knows when I am scared.  She knows when I am confused.  She knows when I am happy.  She knows who I am not.  And when I am with her, I can be just that.  The person no one else sees.  The person who is just irritated with the world.  The person who wants to be left alone for a few hours.  The person who is not brave and undefeated.  She is my hero when I can not be the hero.

She is the good part.  She inspires my story.  She is fearless.  She is strong.  She is forgiving.  She loves.  She is Mum.

AND

This is the hard part.  One day.  I will have to inspire.  I will have to be fearless.  I will have to be strong.  I will have to be forgiving.  I will have to love.  I will be Mum.

LOVE YOU MUMMY