Tag Archives: Life
Figure out the root cause
What strategies do you use to cope with negative feelings?
I think the best strategy to cope with negative feelings is figuring out why you are feeling that way. Is it something that has been bubbling up but you have just been ignoring it?
I was watching a video about getting jealous of friends and of course everyone is perfect on the internet and no-one has ever been jealous of a friend or compared themselves with an acquaintance. I, however, could totally relate to that feeling of wondering “What am I doing wrong?” or “How come this hasn’t worked for me?”
I think one thing that is often triggering is having a wonderful or normal day scrolling on your phone, and before you know it, all you can think about is what is wrong with your life. In these situations I think you just need to sit with yourself and reflect, pray or really dig deep to think why did that make me feel bad? Is this something that I actually want, care about or do I just think I want it because someone else has it.
Another thing to consider is what it represents for you; you may see your friend making more money and think that’s what you want but in reality you haven’t realized that you hate your job and desire a change. So you get that negative feeling but it is really nothing to do with that “LinkedIn post” but instead what you are feeling is a desire for change in your life.
I find once you identify what is giving the negative feeling power it’s easier to cope with it. If you don’t know why you are feeling that way it’s easy to drown in that feeling. Lastly the best way to cope with negative feelings is to know that this feeling will pass, nothing is permanent.
White and Connected to the landline
The first computer we had in the house was white and I remember my mum being excited that it was coming and it would be “connected to the internet”.
I didn’t really know what she meant but she seemed excited. When it came we didn’t really know what to do with it, but we quickly learnt how to use the paint application. Did they call it application then? I can’t remember but we started using that and some of the games. I remember solitaire but that may have been later. I also remember mine ball mine something. Till this day I still don’t know how to play that game. You would click, click, click and then boom you couldn’t click any more or the title bomb would explode and you had to restart.
I remember playing with Microsoft word using the word art. All different font all for us to all settle on times new roman or arial. I also remember a special place being set up for the computer, and I know that to do certain things we would have to connect to the landline and the landline would not be working. Something I know to be dial up. I also remember my grandfather making sure or telling us to be careful.
I don’t think understood the importance of the computer but now I as do my work primarily on a computer from anywhere in the world I see it’s importance. I wonder if that will be the same for AI. I’m older than my mum and dad were when they first got a computer but I wonder if they knew it’s significance or they just thought that a cool gadget to have.
Reading Location
Daily writing prompt
You get to build your perfect space for reading and writing. What’s it like?
I don’t think I have really thought about this but I think my perfect reading space has to be cosy. I get cold really fast so there has to be a blanket, I know that a fireplace its too extravagant and will usually encourage others to come and sit with you meaning no real reading will happen. I think it would have a comfy chair that I can perhaps take a nap on and I think I want it to be private. My perfect reading place has usually been in the bathtub. I am relaxed, I can bring a drink in there and I can stay in there for hours reading or editing my work. Usually when I write a first draft of something on my computer I don’t want to look at it again but when I’m in the bathroom with my tablet I am able to look at it with a fresh set of eyes. I also like starting work in the tub, I can write a draft of what I intend to do or I can read a little bit of the book to determine if I wish to continue with the text. I think therefore the perfect place to read is either a really beautiful bathroom or one of those under the stairs libraries like where Harry Potter lived but they have your books and you can just sit, hopefully with some light coming in to keep you warm or enable you to look out the window when you are taking a break.
For writing I’m not too sure, I think you probably just need the right set of tools, the correct pen the right paper or the perfect keyboard and hot drink and it feels like the ideas will just flow. I think I am more experienced in knowing the perfect place to read than to write so I am excited to read what everyone else says.
p.s. I also like to read by the beach but I’m always too distracted by how beautiful the water is that I never seem to be able to fully get into the book.
A Kiss In Joburg – On Love from Africa Selections
“Why did you kiss me?” he asked.
“You kissed me,” I replied.
“Fuck you,” he retorted.
I looked out the window, smiling. He was driving me to the airport. I had spent the night at his house because Johannesburg is a dangerous place—especially for a Zimbabwean woman alone with too many bags and no access to Wi-Fi.
The plan had been simple: I would arrive in Joburg, and a driver from my hotel would pick me up from the airport. He would meet me later in a neutral place. We were just supposed to have drinks because I was in town.
A lady has to maintain some decorum when meeting a man in a foreign country. But things didn’t go as planned. The free Wi-Fi refused to connect, and my phone wouldn’t make calls. I asked a woman nearby if I could use her phone. She agreed but warned me, “You shouldn’t be out here alone. Even I’m afraid to be out here alone.”
I called him and explained that my phone wasn’t working and the driver hadn’t arrived.
“What do you want me to do?” he asked—not rudely, but in a “what’s the solution?” kind of way.
I asked if he could pick me up. He said he’d be there soon.
So I waited. It felt like forever. My mind started to wander, as it often does. What if he doesn’t come? Is this a good idea? We’ve only met once before this. Sure, we’ve talked on the phone, and I was introduced to him in Zimbabwe, but this is South Africa. Oh boy, how do I get myself into these situations?
Then he arrived—still as handsome as I remembered. He helped me with my bags and asked if I wanted anything to eat. I couldn’t help wondering where his car was. It must have shown on my face because he said, “Unoterwa nematsotsi if you use flashy cars at night.”
We decided it made no sense to go to the hotel—his place was closer. At least, that’s what he claimed.
He was Zimbabwean, handsome, and confident—he had told me he knew he’d already “made it.” Fast forward a year. We hadn’t really spoken since I got back home. He was upset that nothing had happened between us—sulking in that way men do, hoping to make you feel like you owe them your body.
Then, one day, I was scrolling through my phone and saw the news. Someone had been shot. The photo caught my eye. “Mmm, he looks like G,” I thought. I looked again, thinking, There’s no way. A quick search confirmed it: he was gone.
In my mind, when I returned home next, I’d planned to reach out to him. Maybe pick up where we’d left off—or finish whatever we’d been trying to start.
“Why did you kiss me?” he asked.
“You kissed me,” I replied.
Now, maybe we kissed each other. It’s hard to remember what really happened when one person is gone.
TIGERE.CA 