Cruising at thirty-five thousand

So I got a chance to type a bit, everytime I fly to Cape Town I think of one particular night on a lengthy bus trip to the Cape, overnight. The bus was cruising along, a new bus, smoothly. The sun had set as we left the bus terminal in Johannesburg, we were now just past Kimberley.

The moon was out in its full glory, lighting up the karoo with an eerie glow, like there was a huge filter over the sun, or wearing 4 pairs of sunglasses at the same time. Picture it, the shrubbery whizzing by, just outside the bus, my head in the openness of the window and the wide panoramic view it afforded. That moonlight squashed all the stars out the night sky it was so intense.

So, why I am I heading down to Cape Town? Well, the primary reason is to attend one of South Africa's first Web Standards related conferences or forums. The tied first would have to be to see Mom and Patrick :)

Work hasn't been going well. There are so many ideals and dreams not realised at the office. It's just a routine again, something I detested when I worked at Dimension Data. Maybe I need a change.

Part of me is thinking I need to just get out of here. To run away and do something totally offbeat. One of the ideas was to help out in some volunteer organisation, you know, do something like help a biological research team in deepest darkest africa, or visit a foreign country, learn a foreign language and be a foreigner for a year or two.

But then I am reminded of the typical thinking, Buy a house, marry, have kids, raise them to do the same. That sounds so, erm, typical. I keep thinking, why is it neccesary to make money? Maybe thats the reason for wanting to disappear, is to understand that money is not everything. I want to wake early in the mornings, work for my food and lodging and enjoy doing it.

Radical.

Bluesy Betty was an enormous woman. She was that graceful yet extremely lazy elephant of a woman.

Every Monday, Wednesday and especially Fridays she had a gig at the corner Blue Foundation Cafe in down-town Chicago. Life for Betty on the outside was a glorious affair one of soulful rhythyms, huge smiles and glorious tones. Inside, she was unhappy, a hopeless dreamer singing her lonely call three times a week. This inner beauty shone through when she sang, it had meaning, loaded with experience.

Slim-Joe and Earl, two ungainly characters were Betty's entourage. One a double-bass plucker, the other, a keyboard dabbling monkey, both hell bent on finding that perfect vibe to bring out Betty's soul, that soul that kept the crowds coming back, session after session. There were always the fascinated regulars at the cafe, but for the most part the cafe earned its exceptional revenue from over-priced bourbons served to the dollar swinging tourists. 3 times a week, Betty sang her lonely song to herself, and like a caged bird the onlookers came to see her and feel her call within themselves.

"Everyone is lonely" Betty would say to her boys. "You've gotta sing to that lonely person inside" She would say...