The Firework-Effect

It has been quite a while since I have posted my last blog - and the reason for this has been mainly my work schedule and the very busy December period, but also mainly since I have really felt that I have had very little that I have wanted to say in the last month or so. And those of you that regularly read my blog ( the five of you!) will know that I tend to not write unless I have something that I honestly feel I want to write about.
This will be my last blog of 2010 and I hope to summarize what it is that I have learnt this year – because, for me, this has been one of those years that presents itself in the form of a learning curve. How I hate those.

Katy Perry, for those of you that don't know, she's a pop singer, recently released a song called ''Firework'', a song that is meant to inspire people to show the world what value they have and what value they have to share with others. Roughly, having only heard it once or twice, the lyrics say something along the lines of: ''Baby, you're a firework, go and show them what you're worth...''
For a while, I thought that this was a very interesting song that obviously had the intention of inspiring people to ''stop hiding their talent under a bushel'' as the Bible would say, but later, it had me wondering exactly why she chose ''fireworks'' as a metaphor for a person's inner value.

The reason for this philosophical query was rooted in this: a firework is fleeting.
It loses it's shine. It sparkles for what can be a couple of minutes and after that it fades to dust and ash.
Maybe this is a very good example of how the world we live in has changed?
Does this song imply that we live in a world where it is fine if one only illuminates the night-sky for a very short period, as long as one actually does illuminate?
We live in a world filled with instant fame, instant pop stars, instant fortune, instant coffee and even instant recognition. We hear of so many celebrities ending up in rehab, or even worse, off the radar, and it begs the question: is this what it has all come to? A moment in the sky and forever on the ground?
Wow.
Well, maybe I am reading too much into these lyrics...

And then my brain started digging further into this metaphor, as one does, and I realized that people are only impressed by fireworks for a very short time.
I remember at the end of 2009, I was sitting on Blaauwbergstrand, watching all the fireworks being shot into the harbour from the Waterfront. Yes, a first it was exciting, and ''ooh's'' and ''aah's'' were heard all along the beach, but as more and more of the same started coming along, the novelty started wearing off and it became an ''almost-impressive'' display of lights.
On the other hand, every time I look up at Table Mountain or everytime I look out over the vastness of the ocean, I can sit for hours and hours staring at it's wonderful complexities.

In South Africa, we had the FIFA 2010 World Cup – and what an anticipated firework display that was ! Finally, Africa had the chance to show the world our ''bright lights'' and oh, did we show them! But, was it enough to sustain this shiny image of our country in the eyes of the world?
I would argue no. Months later when reports were heard that a newly-wed British tourist had been killed in the township of Gugulethu, this faded. The ash fell to the ground and the fireworks had, once again, been extinguished.
As for the rest of this year, and now I am referring to things of a more personal nature, the ''firework-effect'' (If Barbara Streisand could have her own effect, then why can't I?) was eminent in my own life and in the lives of those closest to me.
I realized that relationships can burn like fireworks, exciting and adventurous and new at first, but can fade after years and years into a small pile of ash, cold from it's long journey down.
I have learned that an ideal job can become mundane and turn into an effort.
But, most importantly I have learned that I rely on fireworks in my own life and in my relationships with people. People are enthused by me for a short while, but once the sparkle is lost, I am, like everyone else, a pile of burnt-out dust.
An interesting pile of dust... but a pile of dust nonetheless.
This taught me a lot about myself as a performer and as a person. If you've wowed people once, you are going to have to work very hard on your next attempt to make sure that what you are giving isn't going to be more of the same.
So many times I think I have relied on the ''firework'' aspect of my performances, that I have forgotten that people eventually want to sit on a beach and watch the ocean – that fireworks can lose their sparkle. Catch my drift?

And so, as I come to the end of another year, I look back and wonder: for how long are we going to be content with ''lights''?
When are we going to learn that we need to build an impression stone by stone, year after year, performance after performance and work after work?
Is it because the firework-effect is easier than building a reputation and a respectful admiration?

I think so.

I think that the idea and the prospect of having to work to ''show what you are worth'' tends to put a lot of people off. Why do so little of the Idols winners make it in the industry? Is it because they have realized that the ''instant sparkle'' wears off and eventually, when it comes to the nitty-gritty, so many back down?
Have we become too convenient? Have we made it too easy for ourselves to be noticed?
Have we forgotten about times in history when men had to fight in cold-blooded wars, just to be honored with a badge on their uniform? Where singers started singing in pubs and eventually, through hard work and dedication proved themselves to be true artistes?
I think we have forgotten. Conveniently so.

And therefore, my fellow bloggers, as I am sitting here, once again, with a stunning glass of Cabernet Sauvignon, I would like to encourage each and every one of you to stop relying on fireworks. To start relying on a mountain or an ocean or the longevity of any such wonders.
I am certainly going to try to do just that in 2011.
Perhaps it is then that we will be able to really distinguish between those who have talent and those who are talented. Between the ''one-night stands'' and the partners for life. Between the true celebrities and the celebutantes.
So here's to: the ashes of 2010, the foundations of 2011 and the impressive force that will guide us for the years that follow.
May we all rise up to the occasion and may we stop being satisfied with novelties.
Thank you to everyone who has given me such support with this blog over the past year, thank you for the comments, the numerous Facebook messages and the quick texts to say 'thank you' for an inspiration that was derived from reading this. You are the reason I write and will continue writing.

I salute you.

Ready, set... wait.

''Life is a highway...''

This particular song, a song that I have heard many times on the radio, has been stuck in my head for the last couple of days. Given the nature of such things, when one repeats a phrase over and over, new meanings develop themselves within the very fibre of the sound of the phrase.
And every time that I have repeated this song, mostly on my scooter on my way somewhere, the phrase has developed into something more.

Driving in the CBD of Cape Town, to those that live here, can be frustrating. Cape Town seems to have robot after robot after robot and it seems, well, to me at least, like most of them are absolutely pointless.
The constant stop and start is a frustration to any motorist. It drives you insane to stop at a robot and wait for the invisible oncoming traffic to cross.

And it got me thinking about that highway again. When the lyricist wrote that song, he obviously envisioned life as a never-ending highway that can lead you anywhere and that offers you the chance to cruise. Let's explore this metaphor some more.
If life is a highway, then I suppose trials and tribulations that come our way are the flat tires or the overheated engine or the shortage of gas in the fuel tank. Once the problem is fixed, one moves on and the cruise continues. The destination is some far-off, desolate place that only the driver knows of and will never share.
A highway is also (I am imagining the stretch of desert on Route 66) a passage that passes you through places to get to where you want to be.
But, for me, this is where the metaphor ends.

Lately, I've been thinking that it would be improbable to say that ''life is a highway'' and only a highway.
It seems that life can more accurately be described as a network of roads, all interjecting, all crossing one another at some stage.

And at the moment, I am driving in that CBD.

My life has had it's ups and it's downs and it's had it's flat tires and it's overheated engines and it has most certainly had it's shortages of fuel, but at the moment, I am not facing anything so dire. Nothing is preventing me from getting to where I want to be, well, nothing major at least.
It just seems like my life is an endless array of waiting for the light to turn green. I know the light will turn green sometime, but when? That is the question that I am plagued with daily.
Every day that I feel like I'm finally cruising, I face yet another robot, another pointless waiting period.
And sometimes, I wish that life was like a highway, with it's major obstacles that stop a destination right in it's tracks, because at least then I could be sure of the fact that that was the end, or the temporary end. Or then at least, I could fix the problem and move on, and learn from it. Now, I'm constantly faced with short, momentary lapses in my cruising, that stops the vehicle from ever being pushed to full throttle.

It feels like every time that I plan on something, I have to yield or I have to wait for something to come through, or some incident to blow over, or some friendship to rekindle it's former glory.
It seems as if everything that I want is a couple of blocks away and I can't get there yet, because I'm stuck in traffic.

Everyone has their dreams a couple of blocks away.

And yet, it frustrates me to think that I cannot physically do anything to help this. I believe this has to do with my lack of patience in achieving what it is I want to do. And I also believe that the fact that I cannot do something about these lapses, if they can be so aptly called, is playing again on the fact that I hate being helpless. I pity helpless people, resent them even, since I always believe that where there is a way there is, almost always, a way.
Yet, I have the will, I am on my way and I still cannot do anything about the fact that I am stuck – until whoever decides that I can now move on.

Thinking about all of these frustrations made me think a little about the reason we have robots. They are there to regulate traffic, to slow down the speed that driver's are driving and to make sure that chaos doesn't ensue because everyone wants their turn.
So, are robots a good thing, then?

I have come to the conclusion, within my limited frame of reference, that they are.

I have come to realize that: just because I want to get to my destination now, does not mean that someone else, perhaps someone who has been on the road longer than I have, does not have the same ambition.
If we all drove without the regulatory codes and the restrictive rules, chaos would definitely ensue, because we live in an age where waiting is not an option. Where everyone wants everything they want now. And to be honest, it would be selfish of me to think that my dreams and goals are any more important than that of my fellow road-user.

So, I have decided to enjoy the 'lapses'.

Yes, it can be frustrating and yes, sometimes we do wish that we were on an open stretch of road where the only thing that limits us is the accelerator.
But, as Harold Pinter would put it, it is in the silences that life unveils itself more.
He believed that, in drama, the silences between the dialogue were just as important, if not more so, than the dialogue itself. And after three years of drama, I think that I am finally starting to understand that.
When we pause, whether it is because we have to or because we choose to, it is a moment where we can take in every little detail of where it is that we are at that moment. A moment where stories can unveil themself to us.
It's then that we notice the missing teeth of the fruit-seller on the corner of the street, the beauty of Table Mountain framing this magnificent city and the smell of exotic food being cooked in the restaurant that we would never have visited or paid any attention to.

Sometimes, it also serves to remind us that our dreams are not always as amazing as we have thought them out to be.
But, more importantly than that, it serves to remind us that: ''good things come to those who wait.''
That reaching the destination is far more worth it, if you had to wait for it.

So, as I am sitting here with my glass of Pinotage pining for a refill, I raise my half-empty glass to those stuck in traffic, to those who have reached their dreams and beyond, to those just starting out their journey, to those who are almost at the destination and to those who, like me, are stuck somewhere at a robot waiting for it to turn green.
May your destinations be worth the wait, may your ''lapses'' be short-lived and may you always have the will to start moving again, when the time comes to do so.