Carry on! By Robert W. Service

My favourite poem:

It’s easy to fight when everything’s right,
And you’re mad with thrill and the glory;
It’s easy to cheer when victory’s near,
And wallow in fields that are gory.
It’s a different song when everything’s wrong,
When you’re feeling infernally mortal;
When it’s ten against one, and hope there is none,
Buck up, little soldier, and chortle:

      Carry on! Carry on!
   There isn’t much punch in your blow.
You are glaring and staring and hitting out blind;
You are muddy and bloody, but never you mind.
      Carry on! Carry on!
   You haven’t the ghost of a show.
It’s looking like death, but while you’ve a breath,
       Carry on, my son! Carry on! 

And so in the strife of the battle of life
It’s easy to fight when you’re winning;
It’s easy to slave, and starve and be brave,
When the dawn of success is beginning.
But the man who can meet despair and defeat
With a cheer, there’s the man of God’s choosing;
The man who can fight to Heaven’s own height
Is the man who can fight when he’s losing.
   
      Carry on! Carry on!
   Thing never were looming so black.
But show that you haven’t a cowardly streak,
And though you’re unlucky you never are weak.
      Carry on! Carry on!
   Brace up for another attack.
It’s looking like hell, but – you never tell.
      Carry on, old man! Carry on!

There are some who drift out in the desert of doubt
And some who in brutishness wallow;
There are others, I know, who in piety go
Because of a Heaven to follow.
But to labor with zest, and to give of your best,
For the sweetness and joy of the giving;
To help folks along with a hand and a song;
Why, there’s the real sunshine of living.

      Carry on! Carry on!
   Fight the good fight and true;
Believe in your mission, greet life with a cheer;
There’s big work to do, and that’s why you are here.
      Carry on! Carry on!
   Let the world be the better for you;
And at last when you die, let this be your cry!
      Carry on, my soul! Carry on!

But Inside I'm Screaming: Being Isabel

Isabel hauls herself out of bed and puts her shorts on over her boxers. “Okay, okay,” she says to no one in particular as she walks down the hall to the medicine distribution window. After swallowing the controlled substances that will beat back nature until the next dispensation-all have foreboding names with too many late-alphabet consonants like Serzone, Zyprexa, Trazodone- she shuffles back to her room and crawls back into bed, this time assuming the foetal position.

Doesn’t anybody else see how meaningless this is? How we are all consumed with our chores, which are ultimately useless because with the swipe of a broom we can all be swept away into the abyss. Here I am in a mental institution, trying to get better so that I can go back into the world and rush from job to job, killing time until I die of something other than suicide. I take medicine to help me deal with the nothingness of my life. Millions of us have to take pills to distract us from the sheer boredom of it all. We hurry from thing to thing like ants when we’re all going to end up suffocating anyway.

“Isabel.” The voice on the other side of the door sounds like Kristen’s. “We’re getting ready for the morning meeting. You coming?”

Isabel looks at her watch.  An hour has passed.

"People look at me and they see this happy face, but inside I'm screaming. It's just that no one hears me."

This is a small excerpt from But Inside I'm Screaming by Elizabeth Flock. I have never found a more accurate account of what Depression is truly like.

Everyone feels like an Isabel sometimes.

The "Protectors" of South Africa: Dishonest Police

As one who has always been interested in criminal psychology and the police, the recent problems in the South African Police Department have been a personal disappointment. Stories of corruption, police brutality and even criminals emerging as police officers have rocked the country. Every other day they appear in newspapers or in the news, always hastily followed by a statement from some high-ranking official or a politician.

Failure to respond to calls of distress or allowing illegal immigrants to cross borders is nothing new. But now there have been different crimes. Last year the female applicants at the Tshwane Police Training College were forced to shave off their hair. One of the girls ended up in hospital with sunstroke and third degree burns.

And in the last week I've been told that the Tshwane Police department lost case files, many connected to ongoing cases, and many needed in court. They have not been able to recover them since. This type of neglect from the people who are supposed to protect our country is shocking.

But I suppose if we bribed them things would go better.

Despite the Lead SA campaign, which attempts to better safety and awareness in South Africa, cops are still asking and accepting bribes around every corner. There are honest cops who turn down such offers, and try to do honest work. They are, in return, shunned and ridiculed by their colleagues.

The only thing we could do to solve this, is to pay better wages to the police officers. Unfortunately the government is corrupt too and the money would never reach them.

South Africa needs help.

The Valentines Ball: A night of friendship

So last night my friend Leizelle and I went to our school’s Valentines ball. Which, basically, means they decorated the school hall and hire some half-baked DJ to play music. Sounds fun right? I’m kidding, but actually the people make it fun.

Instead of doing the usual awkwardly –sticking- with- one- partner- thing, we found  a group and danced with them. I loved how everyone would switch partners, and it didn’t matter at all. We danced and talked and laughed, mainly at our one friend’s poor dancing ability, and yes we tried to teach him! But it was about just enjoying what you were doing, and a night of new friends.

I’m sure some people ended up heartbroken last night, and some friendships were spoiled. Things like this dance cause good and bad things, and some people may have been unfortunate. For them I’m sorry.

I’m so glad we decided to go. Now its back to school, rehearsals and work. But, in our sub-conscious, all of us are anxiously awaiting the next one!

To everyone: Happy Valentines Day

The Age of Barbies

Everyone knows them. They're the women who breeze through life, platinum cards flashing. Their luscious golden locks guarantee every door is opened for them.

They are the Barbie’s of the world.

I don’t understand the worlds obsession with blondes. Nowadays its as if they are revered above everyone else, and its not right. We received a visit from my stepsister recently, a suicidal blonde (she dyed by her own hand), and she asked me if she could dye my hair blonde. And she was genuinely shocked when I refused. I’ve always been a brunette, and several people have suggested blonde to me.

And my only thought was that I'd rather shave my head.

When I look at the stars in Hollywood, its obvious that blonde is now ten a penny. Cameron Diaz, Blake Lively and Reese Witherspoon are prime examples of this. No matter what they do, they always seem to look alike, and use the same style. Its nice and all, but it gets tedious.

Then, when you see Penelope Cruz, Jessica Alba or Christina Hendricks cross the red carpet its instantly memorable. There is something more distinct about them, something raw that stays in your memory.

I'm not a blonde hater, some of the best people in my family are blonde, including my mom. I just don’t think there should be this much pressure to change your hair colour to something that only suits a select group of people.

We’re all different. That’s what makes us amazing.