The dream I never knew I had

I was asked to write a piece about my career choice for a student publication and I thought I'd share... 

I began reading just before my 3rd birthday. Not comics, not pop up books, proper books. 

My mom likes to think that I was a gifted child; I think of it more as peaking early. 

Truthfully, it's probably down to having an older brother and being fascinated by his homework and spelling flash cards. 

At 3 years old, I was lost in the world of Enid Blyton, obsessed with Moonface, Silky and The Saucepan Man. 

I was the child who couldn't ride a bike, but I could devour several books in a day. Yes, that child. 

Eventually, every one had caught up and reading was no longer a special gift, but rather a requirement. It didn't quash my love for books. I still can't sleep at night without reading, but Moonface and friends have been replaced with piles of fiction and even more non-fiction. 

My love for books hinted at the fact that one day, words might be my bread and butter. 

After changing my mind more times than I could count (I've never been gifted in the maths department), completing a degree and then pursuing my Honours, I finally decided to chase my dream of becoming a copywriter. 

11 years ago, I packed up my life, moved to Joburg and handed myself over to AAA for a year as a postgrad. 

12 of the best months of my life eventually came to an end and they plunged me into the deep end of the advertising world. 

After about 6 months, I realised that I wasn't living my dream at all. I felt stifled and frustrated by the process. I didn't want to just be a contributor, I wanted to give birth to an idea, love it, feed it, raise it and be there to send it out into the world. Most of the time, I just gave birth to the words and then had to give them up for adoption to another department. That's something I was unprepared for and something that revealed how precious I am about my work (read: control freak). 

So, I had uprooted my world to pursue a dream that I was not a good fit for. What does one do? Wait for someone to call you and offer you another dream? That wasn't the plan at all, but it's exactly what happened. 

Television. Do I want to work in television? In a word, yes!

Within 5 days of working in TV, I knew, in the same way you're able to point out exactly where your birthmark is without having to look for it, this was going to be my life's passion. 

Working in TV allows me to conceive my babies, watch over them, nurture them and kick them out of home when I think they're ready. 

I love my job fiercely. I struggle to articulate just how much passion I have for it. 

Most of the day, I'm behind a desk, pushing paper and writing endless scripts, but every day, for at least an hour, I get swallowed up by the magic and mystique of control rooms and studios and the agonising bliss of live TV adrenaline. 

For me, there will never be anything that beats the high of producing live television. 

I get to do that every day. Me! The little girl who buried herself in books. The girl who still can't ride a bike. 

That girl gets to meet the most incredible people. She gets to travel. She gets to learn something completely new every day. She gets to do something she loves, even when she feels like she hates it. That little girl didn't allow herself to dream big enough to ever imagine the life she'd have. 

That girl was lucky, but much more than that, she was determined, focused to a fault, hungry and ferociously in love with creativity.

No, I'm not curing cancer or solving the global warming crisis, but every day I get to play a part in making people think, or laugh, or cry. I help inform them, inspire them or entertain them. 

I get to live the dream I never knew I had, and given my often questionable use of commas, I'm sure that many of you will be glad I gave up copywriting. 

I don't believe in New Year's resolutions, but if I did...

I don't believe in New Year's resolutions, but if I did, these would be mine...

- Learn to love tequila again. 

- Listen to a new song every day. 

- Stop listening to my favourite songs on loop. 

- Be kinder to gingers. They're people too. 

- Learn to speak German properly. Swear words don't count. 

- Stop asking people to roofie me when I can't sleep. 

- Stop trying to train my cats. 

- Bag you like groceries. (No, not you. YOU.) 

- Stop emotional cutting my hair. 

- Stop making emotional cutting jokes. 

- Stop making lists. 

*This list was made while listening to Imagine Dragons on loop*

2012: The year of everything and nothing

Yet another year has snuck by without being courteous enough to ask me if I was ready for it to end.

Part of me is ready for 2012 to exit quickly and quietly, and another part of me wants to hang onto this year forever.

2012 hasn't been about amazing trips (although I've had some of those), nor has it been about success (there’s been some of that too). It's been a year of absurd amounts of personal development. Bucket list stuff.

I had 3 wishes for this year. 3 wishes turned into 3 goals. 3 goals became 3 missions. 3 missions became 3 checked boxes.

Look, it hasn't been all plain sailing. I've been left with some scratches and scrapes, bumps and bruises, but none of them permanent. None of them regrets. Not a single one. Really, not even that thing I thought I would hate myself for.

I’ve kicked myself several times. I’ve had a couple of scares. I was mad as hell at myself for being so ill equipped to deal with them. I forgave myself quickly.

I’ve learnt countless lessons, some of which I am self-aware enough to learn from and some of which I am self-destructive enough to repeat. Some things don’t change!

Ok, now that I’ve got that out of the way, I have to focus a little on some frivolous (and some more serious) 2012 loves and hates…

Loves…

My liver – I can hardly believe you stuck by me for yet another year. You’re stronger than I thought, kinder than I imagined, and probably more enlarged than I want to know about. I’m sorry for everything I’ve done to you, but regretfully, I won’t be making any new year’s resolutions to go easier on you.

My feet – If my liver thought it had been abused, it has nothing on the 2 of you. I’ve done terrible things to you. I’ve made you fit into cruel shoes that feet shouldn’t ever have to be exposed to, but you have to understand that mommy hurts you because she loves you. You should always look your best and I work very hard so that I can afford for you to be adorned and adored.

Skulls, studs and spikes – I’m sorry to everyone who has been injured in the process of hugging me this year. I promise that my obsession with skulls, studs and spikes is simply a fashion phase. It’s not a cause for worry and certainly not intervention-worthy. It also has nothing to do with the occult, an underground S&M circle or an indicator that I will be taking to the seas to become a pirate. This too shall pass…maybe.

 

The Radio - I'm already so lucky. I have a job that fuels me and fulfills me. A job that is so much more than a job. On top of this stroke of luck, I found a new passion in radio. Every Wednesday night from 7-10, I got to hang out with my BFF (forever ever), @spillly, listening to my favourite music, talking dirty and drinking beer.  

Hates…

Opportunists – I have no intention of naming names, but you know who you are. You think everything’s about you anyway, so I can’t imagine why this would slip by you. Douche.

Getting older – I refuse to be one of those people who age gracefully. Fuck that. I’m fighting back, hard. I’m 34 and I’m actually totally ok with that. It’s not about the number. It’s about the more severe hangovers, the ever-increasing recovery time required, the hint of laugh lines (Yes, I know the lines on your face tell stories. Whatever! I call bullshit.). I’m not taking this lying down, so I will continue to push my body and make it do whatever I tell it to (refer to aforementioned statement regarding not involving my liver in any New Year’s resolutions).

The Sticker Family – In a world where we can land on Mars, jump from space and have ginger celebrities (sorry @spillly), why the absolute fuck (thanks @MegPascoe) are we now putting little stick figure families on the back of our cars? Take that shit off. NO ONE CARES! I guarantee it’s increasing the incidence of road rage.

Dubstep – I just can’t like it. I’m never going to. Please don’t ask me to.

 

The Treadmill - I want you to know how much I hate you. Nobody should have to run nowhere at high speed while staring at a sea of spandex. I've made peace with you, but I'm never going to love you.

All in all, it's been a remarkable year filled with the best people and over the top fun. Thanks so much to every one of you who has made memories with me, called me on my bullshit, told me I'm better than some of the silly things I've done, treated me with respect and kindness, laughed at my jokes, got me, put up with me when I've been grumpy, shared their sleeping pills with me when I've been unthinkably tired, drunk copious amounts of beer with me, let me feed them doo doo shots against their better judgement, made me laugh, not made me cry, encouraged me, put up with my sad sick cat stories, stopped me from cutting more of my hair off, told me the truth and trusted me with their weirdness. 

Truly, if the Mayans get their way, I'm ending on a high note.

Jo

 

Dear Trolls, Bullies and Hypocrites

Dear Trolls, Bullies and Hypocrites

Truthfully,  I think the open letter has been done to death, but seeing as you hide so skilfully and spinelessly behind your screens, I have no choice. 

Some time ago, I wrote a blog about how Twitter changed my life. And it has. Really. For the most part, it's still my favourite place to go and escape. As an avid people watcher, it's my little piece of heaven. By the looks of it, it's clearly still a great place for harmless flirtation, debate, news, networking and passing time when you can't sleep, you're in queues, or in traffic (illegal, yes, I know). 

I've met some of the most interesting, intelligent and enlightened people through Twitter. I've made great friends, acquired brilliant drinking partners and have been on the receiving end of endless support during shitty times. 

Here's what else I've been on the receiving end of...

You've wished  cancer, rape and death  on me. 

You've bullied me. You've threatened me with legal action. You've promised me I will rue the day I had a standpoint on morality. You've guaranteed me that you will ensure my career will suffer for it. 

I'm human. I want to be liked.  I have a big mouth, but those  who really know me know that I'm soft, sensitive and I hurt hard. It stings like fuck when someone comes after you. Do I wish I had thicker skin? Yes. Should I toughen up? Probably. 

You've posted some really intensely personal things about me (which have since been removed) in the comments of not only my blog, but on blogs I have contributed to. Trust me, it took me a very long time to get those voices in my head to pipe down a little. 

Many of us spend a lot of time walking around praying that others don't see us the same way we see ourselves. We hope to be met with kind eyes, but live in fear that we won't be. You trolls sure do know how to hit exactly where it hurts. A 140 character missile directly into the nether regions of your soul. 

Why? Why do you feel the need to hurt, humiliate or attack someone you don't even know? What is it about people receiving  positive attention that irks you so much? Is it that important for you to belittle others in order to gain a little meaning in your life? 

Twitter has become a breeding ground for you faceless cowards, bitter spineless little people who don't have the balls to speak up in the real world. 

Today was the perfect example...You can all obsess about buying followers and "fraud". I have never once seen Barry or Kirsty feel the need to humiliate anyone on Twitter. I've never seen them target anyone and relentlessly assassinate their character. I've never seen them wish disease on anybody. I have, however, seen all of those things directed at them (by you, of course). They're 2 of the more genuine, real people on Twitter and what you see is truly what you get with them. So throw words like fake around, you can be as caustic and sarcastic as you like about their 'influence', but if the bulk of their followers are fake and they have no influence at all, why is so much being written about them? Why do you care so much? Why are they even on your radar? Hmm. No influence. No influence at all. 

Your character and your influence is not measured by how many followers you have, but who you are when you're not anonymously lurking in the shadows of the internet. That, I'm afraid, leaves you trolls a little fucked. 

I look forward to the choice comments you'll *no doubt* be leaving on this post. Cocks. This time, I'm fighting back. 

Jo

Learning to walk before I run

This all began with a dare. Health and fitness goddess, Lisa Raleigh dared me to do her 10 day detox. No meat, wheat, dairy, salt, sugar, caffeine, alcohol or processed foods. 

What started as stubborn resolve ended in a truly extraordinary week and a half of focus, learning and a commitment to treating my body with more respect. 

In just 10 days, I learnt that at least 90% of my health problems were caused or aggravated by diet. My skin glowed, I went a full 10 days without a headache, ulcer pain or a hernia attack. There was no heartburn, indigestion or stomach cramps. It was a wakeup call. 

I've spent my life on diets trying to fit into "that pair of jeans". Chasing the body beautiful. Wanting to look a certain way. But for the first time, my food choices had nothing to do with kilograms and inches and everything to do with health. 

So many things happened all at once that indicated that this was the right time to make a change. This was the "flipping of the switch" that I'd heard so much about. 

Has anyone ever said something to you in passing conversation that made you think so hard that it'll stay with you forever? Without her even knowing it, my very wise, very strong and very inspiring friend, Nechama, planted the seed. What she said is not important and may not resonate with you, but it shook me to the very core. I was ready. 

The detox came to an end, but my mind was open and the end became the beginning. 

On Day 11, another challenge was issued. Run a 10km race by the end of the year. I'm not a runner. I'm not even a jogger. But it was time to find my stride. I've had 34 years to perfect my walk, but now it was time to run. 

I shared the news with my bestie, the Comrades warrior, Tanya Kovarsky. She jumped at the opportunity to torture me and decided that if we made this public I wouldn't back out. Immediately, a 10km race was selected and she mobilised a Twitter team to run with me. 

So, it's official. On the 4th of November I will be running the Soweto 10km with an incredible group of cheerleaders, coaches, friends and strangers. 

In the meantime, I need to learn how to run without looking special. But as Tanya said "We'll work on technique later". 

I'm terrified but determined and very motivated by fear of public humiliation. I'm going to do it. I'm going to just put one foot in front of the other, repeatedly, and pray I don't fall down. 

If you're an experienced runner or if finishing a 10km is on your bucket list, I'd love it if you'd run with me on the 4th of November. I'd love it even more if you're trained in CPR. Your support (and medical know-how) would mean the world to me. 

Jo

Dear Nonhle

Dear Nonhle

These are things that I am not:

1. A fan
2. Broke

These are things that I am:

1. Tired of being subjected to your incoherent and misspelt rants retweeted all over my timeline.
2. Bored of you

Despite my best efforts I am unable to avoid you so I thought I'd help you out with a concise list of investment ideas for your insurmountable wealth:

1. An education and/or spellcheck
2. A reputable manager that can salvage your career
3. Mood stabilising medication
4. A comfy chair so that you can sit down
5. A getaway car for when one of your 'broke ass fans', who you constantly insult, tries to take you out (and I don't mean on a date)

Now, these are things that your money can't buy you:

1. A clue
2. A friend who is honest enough to tell you how insufferable you are
3. Talent

In a country divided by haves and have nots, you straddle a fine line. You're rich but you're poverty stricken when it comes to class. Just one more thing your money can't buy you.

So, Nonhle, I think Bheki Cele said it best, 'Shut up'.

Yours sincerely,
Jo

P.S. You may be rich but some poor person who spent R10 on a Lotto ticket will be 3 times richer than you tonight. Perspective?

#TwitterChangedMyLife

For the past 10 months I  have desperately been seeking inspiration for a blog post. My need to word vomit in more than 140 character bursts has just been reignited by a simple tweet. 

I asked "What has happened to you in the past year that never would have happened if you weren't on Twitter?" 

There were too many stories to include all of them but some of the responses blew me away (some of them just made me laugh really loudly)...

@JoziGoddess I was on 3talk, I started writing, I was offered a column...Lots

@NatalieRoos I met my boyfriend and moved to Cape Town. 

@SchweppesRocka I got a photo published in a prominent national Australian music magazine. 

@TegzAshley Made moving to CT this year so much easier. Got advice on living in CT. Met new people and have made amazing friends!

@BarryTuck watched @followthebounce do Loftus in a Speedo. Picked up @KirstyBisset as an appendage. Rocked Miller's Boat. Lost my virginity. 

@StaceFace248 wouldn't have made an amazing friend @MishToTheD :)

@ShannonS19 I got motivated to start exercising after everyone's tweets about boot camp etc. Have lost 6kgs to date!

@kambabe I met my partner and he got a job, all via twitter

@AmandaSevasti I met my best Joburg friends through twitter. It made moving to the city a lot less lonely. 

@KirstyBisset Oh, you know... Met a really hot surfer dude, made @Noeleen3Talk blush, threw name in @CosmopolitanSA. Just your average year. 

@KirstyStoRAWR I met you! And we were in Cosmo. Became a tomtom ambassador. And embarrassed a lot of my family by saying 'vagina' online a lot. 

@LeetBee I met the girl of my dreams, on twitter, no lies

@CreateAStirSA I learnt that I can still be naive - tweep who pretended to be terminally I'll but was lying. Conned us into caring. 

I have witnessed lives changing, friendships developing and love blossoming. I have seen courage found, new ventures embarked upon, motivation, inspiration and determination. Inevitably, have also seen manipulation, cries for help, sadness and sorrow. 

I know how it's changed the lives of friends. I've seen them find their paths. I've watched them take steps in directions that will forever define them. Some of the big, life altering stuff, life's giant moments, the ones they'll remember in the twilight of their lives, happened on Twitter. 

So many profound things have happened to people I care about, just because of Twitter. Ironically, these people I care about are the ones I met online. Their stories are their own to share but I know that they wouldn't have found the courage to do what they have done this year if it weren't for all of you. 

This might sound dramatic but keep your eye on your timeline. Watch closely. You'll see it too. I've seen it all start with a flirt, a question, or just a curiosity about someone else's hobby. You'll see unlikely friendships begin that will last a lifetime. You'll see confidence grow, strength gained, renewed focus and energy. 

For many, social networking might just be a way to pass time, but it's impossible to escape the underworld of Twitter without being affected. You can't log in or out without witnessing someone else's joy, accomplishments or sadness. 

And what did Twitter do for me this year? 
Besides providing me with an unrivaled outlet, I have made best friends, real, true friends,  it gave me a voice even when I wasn't that keen on being heard, it's given me hope when I've felt a little depleted in that department and it's changed the way I do my job (it's surprisingly made me more effective). 

In the less profound department, I've won great prizes, scored phenomenal swag and it got me into Cosmopolitan. 

Twoogle has gotten me through my first year of being a cat-mom, helped me with research and resulted in the discovery of Joburg's finest Red Velvet Cake (damn you, Twoogle). 

On a final note, if you feel like you're not getting anything from Twitter or it hasn't changed your life at all, you're following the wrong people! Please go to my timeline, check out who I follow, and follow them all. (I don't know if Jeremy Piven will change your life but he's Ari fucking Gold. Ok?)