What is Normality?

You Are 70% Normal

Otherwise known as the normal amount of normalYou're like most people most of the timeBut you've got those quirks that make you endearingYou're unique, yes... but not frighteningly so!

How Normal Are You?

Well I must say that's rather surprising. I would have guessed that I, the lesbian Pagan anime-obsessed pseudo-Japanese speaking fangirl would have scored far lower, though perhaps more than my good friend Chris on 5%. Somehow, it's good to know, and yet it's slightly depressing.

Oh well.

"I'm gonna beat you ugly! -er..." - Tracy

It's been a long time since last posted, possibly because I simply haven't had much to say about life. But over the past few weeks I've accumulated enough thoughts to actually fill an entry, so as I sit here in my family's living room, half-heartedly watching the Stormers vs the Reds in the rugby Super 14, I feel I might as well begin to write them down.

It was Freedom Day yesterday, comemorating thirteen years since Suouth Africa had its first democratic elections. Every year there're always events happing country-wide, usually to do with racial freedom. I'd never really paid much attention to it, for me it's always been a day when I didn't have class, so it's always cool. But yesterday I figured out that I actually do have something to be thankful for.

I'm a Pagan. My basis is in Wicca, but I take from so many other belief systems that it's hard to classify me under any specific one. I've always been able to practice my beliefs, to stand up and say, "I'm a witch," without any fear of retribution. Buty of course, it hasn't always been this way. Before democracy, there were anti-witchcraft laws in this country, laws both condemning and prohibiting even mention of its practices. After the first elections and the adoption of a new constitution which allowed for complete religious freedom, Pagans everywhere were able to completely step out from the broom closet.

So yesterday, Spiral, who runs the FireFly news letter and Pagan networking group, as well as the website www.lizardstead.co.za, hosted the fourth annual Pagan Freedom Day at Delta Park environmental centre. There were hundreds of us, looking at the various stalls, where you could buy anythjing from swords, to robes, to pentacles, to bumper stickers, visiting fortune tellers (everything from tarot-readers, to psychics, and even a Sangoma). There were workshops on working magic and talks on South African Paganism and what it means to be a witch. Afterwards, several of us held and informal healing circle where, after which everything looked blue for about ten minutes. It was wonderful, a whole bunch of us just sitting around and being with one another, just being ourselves and learning new ways of doing things in a way that would have been impossible twenty years ago.

It was a truly wonderful day. It was nice to realise that even I have something to be thankful for on that day.

And it got me thinking, wondering, what else I had to clebrate, and it led me to another inportant part of my life - my sexuality, my being a lesbian. Until 1994, it was illegal to be gay. At least, for men it was. No one really thought about lesbians, I guess. But then came the new constitution, the first in the world to specifically condemn descrimination on the grounds of sexuality. This meant that people were now free to love whoever they wanted without fear of retribution from the law (although there were many cases wherethe conservative were against us - though they were now the ones who could be prosecuted!). Over the course of the last few years, several laws have been passed allowing more and more privaledges to homosexuals, the latest of which being the right to marry. This makes South Africa the first country in Africa and the fifth in the world to pass this law.

And none of this would have been possible without democracy, without the scarifices made during apartheid. So I have many things to be thankful for.

And even though there are still thousands of racists, homophobes and people who hate Pagans and call us satanists for wearing our pentacles, they are becoming a dying breed slowly but surely. Maybe in the next thirteen years, there will be true freedom.

P.S. It looks like the Stormers are going to beat the Reds. YAY. At least one South African team is doing well, people don't even want to think about the SA vs Australia cricket match in the world cup semis.

Rants of a Misused Neighbour

Some people are so inconsiderate. We all see them. People who cut in front of you in traffic, those who graffiti other people's walls and gates, some who steal the brass fixtures off of gravestones (I kid you not, I've seen it with my own eyes). But even then, it's not like you know these people, right? There's not much you can do except swear profusely, wish great ill on them, and move on with your life.

It's different when you live in the same space.

I live in a complex. Four double-story flats, all ajoined, but each with its own garden, separated by walls or fences. My family (in number 1) has been here the longest (five years tomorrow). Vern and Lenny, and their kids, Kerree and Miquel, at number 2 will have been here five years in August. The Walkers at number 3 have been there about... two and a half/three years, and Avesh, Jessica and baby Kiara at number 4 have been here for two and a bit. We all know each other, we get on well.

Except for the Walkers at number 3.

The Walkers at number 3 have two dogs. That, in itself, is not a problem. We love dogs. We have a dog, too. And two cats.

The problem begins shortly after the Walkers at number 3 moved in. Back then, they only had one dog, Goldie. He's beautiful, with a lovely nature. He's a chow-chow cross rough collie, so you know he's gorgeous. The problem is, Goldie barked. A lot. At three in the morning. This went on for about a year, before my dad threatened to get a court interdict to force them to shut their dog up, or at least let him sleep inside like ours does.

So they got a new dog, JJ, a daschhund. Now that he's not lonely at night, Goldie no longer barks.

JJ does.

But not often at night.

So, for a while, things settled down. Goldie was quiet at night, we were happy.

But the Walkers at number 3 are what're known as Inconsiderate People (as mentioned above). The Walkers at Number 3 don't walk their dogs. We have small yards. Ours is a bit bigger than theirs, for the simple fact that we don't have a garden overchoked by weeds as well as a giant shed taking up half the area.

Anyone who knows dogs, will know that working dogs such as collies, chow-chows, german shepherds and the like need lots of training and lots of walks for excercise.

Goldie doesn't get that.

So Goldie jumps over the fence into number 2's garden, which has at least twice as much space as number 3's and therefore must be far more appealing to a dog of Goldie's stature.

I've said before, Goldie is a big dog, and quite ferocious-looking. He's sweet natured though (And I only know this because I'm the one who usually has to get him back over the fence, because Vern and the kids are too scared of him). But still, this results in number 2's garden being destroyed, covered in dog shit and leaving the kids unable to play in their own yard for fear of Goldie coming over the fence.

And despite letters, despite pleas, despite chats to Brian, the Walkers' son who is my age and seems to have a better head on his shoulders than his parents, the Walkers at number 3, being Inconsiderate People (as mentioned above), refuse to do anything about it.

What do you do in a situation like that? We're dealing with people who are neglecting their dog, not picking up after him (you can smell the shit from their yard from ours), and letting him jump over a fence which they refuse to fix. What do you do? Vern said on Sunday that if that dog ever got over again, she would call the SPCA.

He jumped the fence again this morning. So she's carrying through with her threat. This means Goldie will very likely get taken from them, and because no one wants to adopt a big, adult dog, will probably be put down in the next few months.

A big, beautiful, lovely-natured dog, perfectly healthy.

Because people don't care.

Because people are so Damn Inconsiderate.

*End rant.*

To see the world through a child's eyes...

Children are amazing. They really are. Have you ever just sat and watched a child? Especially one who’s extremely young, about a year or less even? They way everything grabs their attention, how everything is something new, something to be curiously explored until it becomes and ingrained part of their world and, thus, no longer interests them.

I have “Scoobie Doo wire” ornamental thingies attached to my cell phone. They are a constant source of entertainment to my 10-month-old nephew, Xavier, who continues to come up with innovative ways to get his hands on them. He learns something new every time he tries.

A telephone ringing, the way sunbeams light up dust particles in a room, a dog or cat walking past, a stranger’s voice… all of it is so wondrous to a small child, all so new. As adults, we become so bloody desensitised to the world. Nothing excites. Or, more so, we learnt that finding certain cloud formations, or light rays interesting is “uncool” or “stupid” or “geeky”. We so easily lose our sense of appreciation for the world in which we live.

Another thing is how resilient children can be. To use Xavier as an example again, he’s pretty sick at the moment. He’s spent the whole day throwing up. We took him to the doctor to find he has rotovirus, which isn’t so bad if caught in time, but still pretty serious.

The whole time we were at the doctor, even after he woke up after getting home, he smiled and giggled and laughed at everything. Even when all he was bringing up was acid, which was clearly painful, he would swallow his grimaces, niggle just a tiny bit, and then go back to looking at the world, full of wonderment, completely unperterbed.

Sometimes, I wish we could be more like little kids sometimes.