We’ve all heard the flippantly flung phrases to sum up difficult situations. For most of our lives we’ve been told things like “No pain, no gain” or “Blood, Sweat and Tears lead to success” but how often do we stop to question these statements. Until recently, I was one of those people who had been indoctrinated to believe that the only way one would be considered successful was to kill myself trying to do inhuman feats and drowning in toxic stress. Continue reading
Have you ever caught yourself saying “when I was a kid…” and then realised, hang on a second I still do that. If you have not, you clearly have hacked life because for me and most of my friends we still catch ourselves being immature and usually bratty kids on, at the very least, a weekly basis.
For those watching us, I’m sure we are a rather amusing sight, if not decidedly annoying. After all, a bunch of college students getting excited over something like skittles or chocolate or dancing in the rain or singing “the wheels on the bus” at the top of our lungs between campuses is not the kind of thing people would expect at med school forget any where else. I still buy those cigar sweets and pretend I’m smoking and pick out all the colored jelly tots before I eat the black ones. I’ve jumped from concrete dividers counting out loud. I still climb into jungle gyms, even though I’m way way over the twelve year old age limit, and play arcade games to win toys I’ll never actually use. As a group of friends, I suppose we take the idea of a wacky Wednesday a tad literally. Continue reading
Every day I wake up and fight with myself to get out of bed and face the dawn with a smile. Sword at the ready to take on the demons waiting patiently to attack. Every day the shadows creep closer and every day I push them further away. It’s a constant battle. A new pain, a new ache and a new scar to prove that each day came and went leaving me as the survivor.
Neil Armstrong said “Every human has a finite amount of heart beats. I don’t intend to waste any of mine”
Dear Adult.
From the day we were born we’ve been hearing that we are “born frees.” We’ve been hearing about the struggles of our predecessors and the fights they put up to ensure we would be given a fighting chance in a country bursting with potential. We have always been told that the youth started the revolution and won the fight. Peacefully. Successfully. Honestly.
That’s the story we grew up with. That’s the reality we know. This is what you have told us time and time again…
That’s what this government has fed us since the day we were born.
In our basic human rights we were told ” Every individual child must have equal access to a quality education adapted to meet his or her needs.” and I assure you, we know our rights. We’ve had them drilled into us the way our parents had the times tables drilled into their minds. We know what we should be getting but now our question is simple “where is it?”
Where is the “Quality education” that is accessible to all? And ALL includes the poor child whose shoes and clothes are in tatters and who works every night to feed his six younger siblings because his parents were killed by one of the many diseases plaguing our country. And why is the millionaire’s son who owns a Ferrari more bound to his educational needs?
Our country is in dire need of professionals. We desperately need people who come from the communities that crave the touch of professional guidance and skilled work in order to prosper and rise in a country that is moving forward and becoming part of a world that strays from the traditions we are used to. We as the youth are the future of the country. We are made to be the weld between tradition and modernization. That is the legacy you left us. This is the task we were handed.
But we have been crippled by a system that favors only the successful. A system that has no place for the poor or middle class student. A system that financially excludes well deserving students who would take the skills and professions they learn back to the communities that are crying out for help.
You fought your fight. Apartheid fell at the hands of the desperate youth fighting for the futures of both those around them and those who would come after them. You, as adults, showed courage and strength at the face of adversity. You stood tall against a government who did not acknowledge you as a threat until it was too late.
You had your uprising.
Now we have ours.
It is time for the adults to listen to the youth.
Human nature is to fight for what you need or flee from what is depriving you of what you need. If you don’t need it the fight seems frivolous and inconvenient. This is our life and death. This is what we need to survive. We are fighting for our rights that we were promised. We are fighting for ourselves and for those who come after us.
Too much of the last few days has resembled scenes of the past. You have become the government you fought and today you face the wrath they faced. Our voices are stronger. Our words hold more power and our unity is unshakable.
Be warned dear government, we as students will not stop until you tremble before us and deliver the promises you made. Be warned that this is the youth that will remove you from your pedestals. Remember that while our parents and the members of your generation may idolize your efforts during the apartheid struggle we have none of that loyalty. We do not owe you our blood, not any more. You will not keep us in the dark. You will not leave us uneducated. You do not get to make us puppets that dance to songs that have nothing to do with the struggles we face today.
Today, we are the youth. Today, we have our own struggles. Today, we fight for our own futures.
Today we rewrite history.
Amandla,
A student who is proudly part of the revolution.
As usual, I caught myself day dreaming, instead of being productive and contemplating, what exactly should girls be made of to be considered perfect?
Sugar and spice and all things nice… minus the chemical x maybe?
Fairy dust and glitter with a touch of sass perhaps? Or orange blossoms and chocolate fudge?
After running through all the options I could think of, I decided to ask the opinion of my trusted sidekick who is well versed in the intricacies of the male mind (given he has to be… It’s his mind) and asked for his input…
This is what he came up with:
“Strawberry scented conditioner and that fruity lip stuff all girls insist on using definitely sets you in the right direction. Add to that a cute laugh (disclaimer: CUTE being the operative word. Not high pitched or squeeky) and the ability to blush a million shades of red at the smallest things; makes you delicate and definitely attractive. We love it when girls aren’t afraid to cry, love the smallest things we do and keep a secret. If she can figure out how we feel it’s an immediate “Hell Yes!” and her obsession with her phone is super cute. If she looks like a Megan Fox doppelganger, we’re on our knees begging for her already but otherwise she’s perfect if she has a flat tummy and curves with gorgeous hair”
Basically from that, I deduced that boys are attracted to a fruit basket with a “cute” design and about six different shades of red berries or red fruit all set in a delicate and fragile basket. The fruit should be fresh and juicy and preferably look like the entire package popped off the cover of a lifestyle magazine…
That doesn’t sound so bad… Right? RIGHT?
All we as women have to do is find a basket that suits us and turn into cute fruity Megan Fox look-alikes…
Or a fruit basket.
Whichever is easier…
Contemplating Turning Into A Basket Case,
Yours Always
BrokeBella
xoxo
This one's for Hailz who I harass way too often.
Stuck
That’s the only word I can think of to describe where my mind has been in the last three months. Something was wrong. Seriously, severely and completely wrong.
My thought process was clouded. My ideas jumpy and unfocused and for some reason no matter how hard I studied or how much effort I put into my campus work I seemed to be getting the same negative responses. My marks were slipping. My mind was drifting. My motivation… Well, to be quiet honest, that doesn’t even exist any more.
It’s like floating. But face down in the dead of night with no lights shining into the water and not a ripple around your rather still semi-dead body. Things happen around you not to you, at least that’s how it feels. Whether it’s people having a good time or breaking down into a not-so-appealing hot mess, you’re sort of just standing there staring at them blankly…
And then the strangest thing happened. Suddenly, it wasn’t just a blank stare, it was a blank pain stare because pain laced it’s way around your shoulder, down your arm and across your fingers. Gently intertwining and twisting to drag across your knuckles in an intricate embroidered design across your most used metacarpals.
The funny part is, I never linked the two. I never put my slowly developing hatred for the career I’d chosen to the vile pain that clung to my innocent hand like the vice-grip of an abusive lover. No surprise there though, I’d always been a little slow when it came to making emotional connections when they affected me.
So here I stand, three months later, staring at myself in the mirror with clear horror written all over my panicked features.
Why?
Isn’t it obvious?
I’ve just realized, that much like a woman who is in an abusive relationship and refuses to leave because she thinks she loves the man, I am killing myself and sacrificing my soul and sanity for a love that was never mine… Stuck because I convinced myself this is what \i wanted to do for the rest of my life.
With The passion gone and the feelings dwindling away more each day, I am shackled and chained without an escape.
I’m Stuck.
In the words of Coco Chanel, ” A woman who cuts her hair is about to change her life.”
Let’s just take a moment to reflect on one of the many topics that seem to boggle the minds of men every where, Woman and Their Hair. See it’s quiet simple really, a woman’s hair is her crown. It’s her statement to the world and whether she covers it all day or leaves it loose for the wind to caress.
At some point we’ve all been seduced to cut our locks as short as possible without looking like a member of the local boys soccer team… And at other times we’ve grown it so long our mums held us down and cut it by force simply because looking like Rapunzel isn’t very practical for a nine year old who can’t tie her own hair…
For most of our childhoods we experiment with different lengths of hair, fringes, bangs, little tufts sticking up, pony tails at the very top of our heads, hair styles that belong in cartoons and even those dreaded mushroom haircuts. But every woman finds that one hairstyle that she will stick with th
rough the whole of high school. It’s her signature look. Her entire image is built around that hair do.
Then high school ends and we all have this sudden urge to make a change… And guess what’s the first thing we all tackle…
Bingo!
OUR HAIR.
Now the guys are probably sitting there thinking to themselves “why the hell would you do that if you already have a signature look?”
As Chrisette Michele puts it “Truth is, I cut my hair for freedom, not for beauty.” For most of us dying our hair blue, pink or even orange was a sign of rebellion. Chopping half your hair off the ultimate symbol of freedom. For a few days we revel in the light and often healthier feeling hair. Then the next week we realise we miss our long hair…
Why?
It’s simple, we had a routine. A set number of steps that en
sured your hair would look semi-decent every single day of the week. With a new hair do comes new steps… suddenly you have fly aways and cow licks popping up all over your head. Your pony tail suddenly resembles the tail of the chihuahua down the street. And sporting a messy bun is as likely as you riding a unicorn…
Suddenly the new hair cut is a disaster… even though it makes you look like Victoria Beckham. On a serious note though lets be honest your haircut gives you a boost of confidence. A fresh outlook. A sweet new view on reality…. In the end, even when the hairdresser does the exact opposite of what you asked, regardless of how much work it is to maintain your new do it’s worth the drama.
Because let’s face it, Ariel Meadow Stallings styled it perfectly when she said “Life, Weddings, Relationships, road trips, gardening, making out, haircuts: few of the fun things in life always go as expected.”
So here’s to bad hair days and good hair days. To natural hair and Bleached Hair.
Here’s to expressing yourself any way you see fit.
May you experience:
And until next time, may your personality be as epic and as sexy as your hair.
Stay Tangle Free And Glossy,
Broke Bella
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It’s that time of year again. The skies seem to be bipolar. One minute it’s balling it’s eyes out and the next it’s smiling down on us.
For those of you who have no idea what I’m talking about, I’m referring to a Johannesburg Summer. Basically, the weather alternates between super-hot sunshine and lightning filled thunderstorms. It’s confusing and exciting. A South African Highveld summer is the most beautiful of paradoxes. Hot and Cold. Fire and Ice. Darkness and Light.
But as beautiful as it may be, it poses a massive dilemma. HOW IN THE NAME OF SUGAR TREATS AM I SUPPOSED TO DRESS?
Do I wear flip flops and risk having drenched feet at the end of the day or do I wear Gumboots and risk the possibility of blisters? Is it a good idea to wear shorts? Does this weather permit sleeveless tops and should I just carry a jacket in my hand bag or should I be wearing long sleeves?
To carry an umbrella or not to carry an umbrella… That is the question to be asked.
To be fair,, as someone who grew up on the Highveld, I never realised how confusing summer weather is until I got to campus. Campus exposed me to people who were experiencing a Highveld summer for the first time. And no offense to all the “foreign” students, and I put that in inverted commas because I’m referring to any non-joburger, but you guys seem completely baffled by this weather.
So I took it upon myself to come up with 5 rules to help you figure out and survive a Johannesburg Summer:
1) If you wake up in the morning and it’s cloudy outside, assume that it will rain sometime around four o’clock in the afternoon. You do not need to dress like an eskimo. Chances are by twelve in the afternoon it will be hotter than the curry your mum made the night before.
2) Open toe shoes are for the beach and special occasions, don’t be a brave soldier. It will at some point in the day storm. You will have wet feet and a cold the next day.
3) There is a reason Joburg girls own massive handbags. We have half a closet in our bags just in case we get caught in the rain. I’m kidding. But seriously, carry a jacket with you at all times and DO NOT leave it in the car!
4) This is the tricky one… THE UMBRELLA RULE. Most people are going to say always carry the umbrella. But chances are the day you take an umbrella it won’t rain. So my take on this rule is simple, if your head is saying it’s not going to rain you put that umbrella into your bag. Because, honey I assure you it will not rain it will pour.
5) Lastly, to survive a Johannesburg Summer, do not listen to the Joburgers. We cannot read the weather patterns no matter how hard we pretend we can. The skies will not clear up. We will shorts and end up soaked to the bone. We will wear flip flops and get a cold. Lastly, how many Joburgers have you seen actually carry an umbrella on the right day? That’s what I thought.
So take my advice and disregard everything I just said because I may have lived here my whole life but I assure you, I have no idea how to survive the summer…
I Just Dance In The Rain And Hope For The Best…
xoxo,
BrokeBella
I’m not sure why I do this to myself, I spend months moaning about not having anything decent to read but as soon as I get a new book I read the whole thing in one night.
And it’s not like I have to return the book or that it doesn’t belong to me because even when I buy books I do exactly the same thing. I love to read but evidently I have the self control of an ape in a room full of bananas.
Do I really have a problem? Is it time for my friends to stage an intervention? Is giving up my sleeping and eating time to read really such a bad thing? Surely it can’t be that life threatening if I’m still alive right? Am I really the only person in the world who does this?
See, these questions have been pecking at my mind for a while now but no one seemed to have the answer. Some of my friends looked at me as though I was possessed. These were the friends who haven’t picked up a book since they left high school.
Then there’s the friends who read magazines and Twilight who thought it was acceptable to read a book quickly but told me I was insane for giving up sleep and my social life to read.
Lastly, were the friends whose eyes lit up and excitedly exclaimed that they did exactly the same thing. It was with these friends that I found I had the most in common. We bonded over memories of our childhood like that time our parents took away our book collection as punishment.
But surely everyone has come across a powerful piece that drew you in and you refused to let it go until you read the last sentence. Surely there is a story, article, recipe or poem that you just could not put down until you finished it…
Or am I just insane and in need of mental help?
Let me know what you think…
In the meantime I’m going to go back to obsessively reading the new horror I found today.
Until next time,
xoxo
Broke Bella
Selfie.
A simple word to explain a simple concept. A quick often cute picture of yourself taken by yourself. Nothing complicated or particularly challenging right?
Oh how wrong you are if you think it is that easy. To start things off a selfie that is worthy of being posted on instagram requires rigorous procedure to be followed.
Firstly you are to plan the exact location that you will be standing in. Then one must position ones body in such a way that one looks both skinny and tall as well as showing a sufficient amount of ones outfit. An outfit that you spent two hours putting together with the specific intent of taking a selfie. And let’s not mention the hour you spent on your makeup.
Once your position is right you need to ensure the lighting is good so all skin imperfections are erased. Basically you need to be standing in direct uninterrupted sunlight. After that you need to decide what look you are going for. Will it be the head thrown back, laughing look or the glare and pout “I’m too cool for you” look.
Next you need to take about two hundred pictures of you in that exact pose to ensure that you get at least two decent and postable pictures which you will test through every filter and fix that instagram offers before posting it with a caption that reads something along the lines of: “fun in the sun #nomakeup #nofilter #happydays”
Truth be told, the process is definitely worth it. You look like a goddess and that evil girl from second grade is green with envy. The problem comes in when you have to take actual spontaneous selfies.
Snapchat. We all love the app but hate having to take the selfies. Because snapchat makes you go from goddess to oompaloompa in 0.2 seconds flat.
Suddenly you have a double chin, monobrow and a zit the size of Robben Island. Your hair looks like you partied with Britney back in 2007 and you’re ten shades darker than you actually are.
We will complain and moan and fuss about how hideous we look on snapchat… but ask us to stop using it and we’ll look at you as if you need a straightjacket. Why? Simple.
We are addicted to The Selfie. It is a part of us that we just aren’t willing to part with.
BrokeBella 