About four weeks ago, my family eagerly awaited the birth of my nephew. I will quickly admit that I was having a fairly crappy day and this was the one good thing I had to look forward to. Or so I thought.
Anyway, that evening, while looking through the pictures and video clips from my bro-in-law, I wondered what kind of aunt I would be. Which was strange because I already have plenty of nieces and nephews. So I’m already an aunt. Why was this different? Because deep down a part of me felt like maybe I haven’t been the best Aunt to his older brother. (A role that I actually have to just define for myself ’cause I have no clue what it entails) Like his parents were raising him a certain way and my being was disrupting that instead of enhancing it.
So while these and many other thoughts were swirling in my head, I get invited to the kitchen for pancakes. (I live in a backpackers) There is a huge stack of pancakes on the table. Along with syrup, lemon juice, butter and cinnamon. I don’t remember the last time I ate pancakes, but I grab myself a plate and sit down. The late night chatter and laughter from the other guests is soothing. People dish and leave. Others stay. A syncopation of sorts.
In between mouthfuls, my hair is decorated with fallen flowers while a guy takes pictures. I don’t remember pancakes ever tasting this great. I smile and wish my nephew a Happy Birthday. When he’s much much older, we’ll celebrate his day every year by eating pancakes. And he’ll think I’m weird for it. But I won’t care. ☺
– Olivie Keck
“I am the artist because I wasn’t brave enough to be the poet. I am the artist because life demands that boxes need labels. I am the artist because I exist in what I create and am consequently ordinary in what I am. I am the artist because I prefer to improvise. I am the artist because sometimes I like to hide. I am the artist because sometimes I like to communicate. I am the artist because I take it personally. I am the artist because failure is possible. I am the artist because I’m not a certainty freak. I am the artist because I like the look on your face. I am the artist because I like the crowd I’m in with. I am the artist because sins of commission are more fun than sins of omission. “
I have a smart mouth (apparently).
“I’m tired of being broken,” the mind said.
“Not tired enough,” the soul replied.
If I had said no more often
Grew up in one place
Never went to boarding school
Took isiXhosa instead
If I had carried on with piano,
Kept playing the guitar
Taken Art as a subject
Went to Wits instead of UCT
Became a Medical Scientist and ignored my artistic side
Never moved to East London
Never left when I was there
Never went back to that gig that night
Never wrote that letter to the Herald Editor
If I was “normal”
Aiming only to survive the system
And not change it.
Had tunnel vision
Cruised through life
If I never read
Spent all that time alone…
Would I still be who I am now?
They call me impatient. But I view it differently. I see it as efficiency. the ability to think ahead. To see how things should go. Could go.