Workable Monday

In typical style, I am the only dick who had work to do today, which is a public holiday. It is Heritage Day here. This means that if you are caucasion, it only serves to remind you how UnAfrican you are; how terrible colonialism was; and that we were never taught any of the eleven indigenous languages when we were at school during the famous Apartheid Years (A period of time to which any bad thing currently happening can be traced back to, and blamed on).

No, No... I am not racist. Don't get me wrong here. It's just sad how one can be made to feel like an illegal immmigrant in your land of birth sometimes.

If you have read 1984 by George Orwell, you will remember there was a government department whose sole duty was to rewrite history based on the government's statements. So if the government said that an event never occured, this department would access every written account of it, and destroy it, so that it could never be proved they were lying about it.

*I was going to rant some more, but deleted it*

But suffice it to say, that the current school curriculum makes no mention of anything good achieved by white people (unless they were fighting for the ANC against apartheid). Four hundred years of my own heritage in this country erased.

And Patrick just texted me to tell me he is booking the the Cape Town trip... so it looks like it is on.

Why do I feel anxious about this whole thing? Perhaps its just a general feeling of anxiousness.

Had a long breakfast with W this morning. We talked about a lot of stuff. Was choking up at one point. Funny how it takes a different angle to clarify a situation. I was explaining to him why it is so important to work for myself at whatever cost. It has everything to do with the fact that
my whole life has been lived for someone else's gain. And I just can't do that anymore. I can't wear that mask anymore. I am not one to look for kudo's or awards, but it always seems that in every relationship I have been in, both personal and professional, I am the one always giving, while the other party smiles and takes. And calls me a good boy with a pat on the head.

Then stopped to say hi to mother and came home to finish some more work. The client left at 9pm. I am Photoshopped out....

Its funny how this clients work depends on how I make it look. It has a look that is 'his'. It's why he gets work.

Which one would you prefer in your album?


"Good Boy. Now go to your room."