What. It’s after lunch.

Two people I know [of] were on TV yesterday. They looked all smart and hotshot talking about social media and the usefulness [or not] of twitter and facebook. Me, I’m just in it for the rant.  But it did get me thinking.

In my other life, the one where I use the saner half of my name, I am sometimes approached with ‘Oh so you’re the xyz that did abc’. I always find it vaguely amusing. So I did xyz. Big deal. I’m still just me, with all my foibles and nonsense and idio-whatsits [I never liked that word].

I remember in school once I got in trouble with this boy I liked. He was the head prefect, and awfully hot for a short boy. His sister was in my class, and she got it into her head that I had ATT. Ok fine, I did, but still.

What happened is we were in the field, under the acacia tree, and it was windy and really dusty. I was in the shade for some reason, and she was standing in the sun. She came walking towards me, and I squinted to keep out the dust and maybe see her clearly, which she misinterpreted and said

“Why are you looking at me as ift [sic] I am *contents of sewer* ?”

I was all of nine, or maybe ten years old, and was rather too shocked to answer.

“You think you are so clever, you know I have an auntie in Tanzania? She can roga you with this,” at which point she pinched my arm and allegedly grabbed a few hairs … or maybe dandruff. I didn’t think much of the threat, since I have a few dubious relatives of my own, and I was sure mine could take hers any day.

I left it at that until the next day when we were in the school bus heading to the swimming pool. I was looking at …almost said his name **cheeky grin**… zoobing at his beauty and not hearing a word he was saying. Turns out he was yelling at me to sit down, and was not amused that I had refused to  obey.

“You think you’re so clever, and just because you did xyz you can do whatever you want?”

I didn’t hear the rest of the sentence, I was too busy crying that the boy of my  infatuations could speak to me like that. I don’t remember whether I sat down or not, but I must have, coz he was scary at the best of times.

So clearly, my having done xyz has never been a big deal, and I still wonder why some people think it is.

Yesterday, watching Kahenya and Mark on the silly unloadable video, I couldn’t help thinking they’re regular guys, just like anyone else on twitter or wherever, just like Paula or Alai or Tonee-before-BBC.

And I see myself as a pretty regular person. But because of BBC/Kiss FM/et al, they become instant experts, go-to guys, people held in awe. Yet awe aside, they are just everyday jamaas with squabbles and foibles [I like this word] and tweef, just like the rest of us.

Sometimes, when I meet these people who pull the xyz stuff on me, I wonder what they would think if they saw my FB page, or twitter feed, or heavens forbid, the mess that is my living space. Would I come off their pedestal? Would I be suddenly human in their eyes? Would I be worth less … or somehow worthless?

Some people in the blog twircle are professional. They are serious at all times, never a stray tweet or idle chatter. Their image is cold, clinical … compact. I wonder if it’s hard keeping that up, or if my anything-goes-ness-ness is some kind of mutation. Coz me, I think I’d be a little stunted if I had to watch every word I said. I’m not even sure I know how. Still, different strokes and all that, their system serves them well, so I just need to work with mine.

Wait. I have a system? Interesting.

I do feed my mind the strangest things sometimes.

And I’m sleepy.

♫ Walking with a ghost ♫ Tegan and Sara ♫

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