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So a little while ago, I explained that one of the things I have loved about winter is settling in and finding interesting things on the internet.  Some of the things I found through pure procrastination (which, after I found these blogs actually felt pretty productive retrospectively) and others were found in the thickets of brilliance on other blogs.

I faffed around on Facebook (and “faffing” – that over-fed sounding word – is exactly what one does when one sits and scrolls down the news feed of every photograph and half-explained status (“What do you want from me?” or “I will never forgive you for all the things you said. #sohurt”.  What is with that????) when one could be doing something far more productive) but this time (if you managed to find your way out of that really long double aside that probably should have been a footnote) I saw a link to this great blog called “Hyperbole and a Half”. (Thanks, Sindile).

The post I started with is called the “alot”, which is a must-read for anyone who has ever come across that creature.  The concept of this blog is that each post tells a story (hyperbolically) and is then animated in large, colourful and child-like drawings.  Her animations are really affecting and her self-deprecating sense of humour and her abstract jokes really tease your brain for a while after you’ve read them.  

Then, I logged onto BlogLovin’ (of which yours truly is a member) and had a look at the blog feed.  I saw many many fashion blogs which are not my favourite things: endless pictures of people looking soulfully into the iphone-camera-instagram-app-created-picture...but Jerusha has already summed up why this is annoying really well.  Go read her description.

But then I saw a title that was made for me in that very moment: “100 Things to Do Instead of Procrastinating on the Internet”.   Needless to say, I bounded off in that direction (metaphorically speaking).  What did I find, apart from a really awe-inspiring yet totally do-able list, but one of the most stylish people I have ever seen.  Her name is Gala Darling, and she is an ex-New Zealander who now lives in New York City.  I like a lot of things about this lady: she has two rescue dogs, pink sparkly high-heels, two kick-ass half-sleeve tattoos and a seemingly endless assortment of rad head-gear.  I am not sure I buy completely into her “Radical Self-Love Project”, (anything self-helpy makes me a little squeamish.  And she quotes Ayn Rand.  Hmmmm) but I almost always feel determined to do something life-affirming after I have read it.  So there must be something in it.

AND she has this great weekly feature where she features articles she has found interesting over the week.  It was in this way that I found my next blog: “The Beheld”.  It is all about concepts of beauty and body image, and is particularly intriguing because it is written by a woman who has been a copy-editor for women’s magazines for many years so she knows the inside of the business.  Her latest posts have been about compliments and their role in facilitating or restricting meaningful social exchange.

She also has a weekly post where she writes about articles she has read, ranging from people’s blogs to mainstream newspaper articles.  She even drew my attention to this article in the Sowetan about the upcoming black hair show.  As someone who struggles with my appearance (you can read about why, here) I really appreciate this woman’s insight and effort that straddles scholarship and pop culture.

What blogs do you like following?  Let’s share the <3 everyone...

Riddikulus.

I have a confession to make. I have - for a good part of the last five years - been an aerobics-class taker. I have done step classes and arm movements that make me feel like I am stuck in the eighties when aerobics first became popular, like I should be wearing a g-string unitard thing with tights and leg-warmers and way too much make-up. That feeling (along with the rush of endorphins) was a lot of fun: it's why I enjoyed aerobics. I spent those classes with a huge grin on my face and frequently giggled. Most people associate exercise with pain or discomfort, or perhaps even with becoming as toned as Gwen Stefani or Rihanna (or if not them, at least that girl who you see at the gym every day with the body you wished you had). I would argue that being a spectacle can be even more fun (encourage you to hit the gym more often) and make you feel more attractive than being "beautiful".

Some of my favourite moments over the years have been when I have thrown dignity out of the window and been just plain ridiculous. I am never so at home as when I let myself go beyond my skin. The EastCape Opera Company's show "Misbehavin'" was probably the start. I had to strut around the stage in a long flowery dress with a lumpy pregnancy belly jutting out in front. The belly was tan in colour, egg-shaped and had my name written on it in black marker. I had to lug it around to the different theatres we performed in and I can definitely say it was one of the oddest props I have ever had to remember. It was also - initially - embarrassing. I liked to look pretty on stage or at least unusual-bordering-on-odd (but still pretty), not ridiculous.

Eventually I found it liberating. I realised I could move freely and come up with creative (and fun) ideas when I wasn't worried about how I looked.

I moved these theatrics into real life when I used to dress up for Rhodes's many parties. I hammed it up as a transvestite (a woman playing a man who's playing a woman, Victor/Victoria style) in white hot pants, a red velvet cloak-like top and a crown with a feather at the OutRhodes party. It was one of my favourite parties because I felt absolutely no awkward self-consciousness. I also dressed up as "two-dollah" (if you've seen "Full Metal Jacket" you'll know what I mean) for a friend's Girls of the Playboy Mansion twenty-first. I was dressed really provocatively, but I was also wearing the most hideous, platinum blonde wig. Once I put that wig on, there was no chance anyone could think I was trying to be a sexy, pert bunny. It was so hideous that there is video footage of it coming to life and "attacking" my friend Kendra.

My final Rhodes prank was the pink wig I wore when I graduated last year. I thought that perhaps Rhodes staff wouldn't let me get away with it (it was so pink it practically glowed), but actually most people were thrilled to see something different at the usually long ceremony. The photograph of me being capped is pretty much the same as the previous year's apart from the pink wig: I'm even wearing the same dress. Except for the anonymous academic sitting behind me. He has a huge smile on his face.

That's why it is not just about dressing ridiculously (though as I've said many times before, anything that stops girls and women, including myself, from feeling self-consciously unworthy about their bodies is wonderful): it's about having a healthy sense of humour about all sorts of different parts of life because it can bring a real sense of joy to everyone.

It's about bravery and freedom. If I were to take myself too seriously, I would never achieve anything. I don't mean that I don't take life seriously. Life is a serious business because I am always interacting with other human beings as fragile -or more so - than myself. My actions will always impact others in ways I can never even dream of. It is more about not being serious about expecting myself or others to be perfect. If I am brave enough to be ridiculous, I am brave enough to admit I am not perfect: not always beautiful or intelligent or witty or kind. It is only then I am free to write what I want, love people without fear that I will lose them because I am not perfect enough and have a great time without worrying that I look funny. I probably do, and there's absolutely nothing wrong with that. In fact, I would say there is a lot right about it.

The same goes for my writing. Writing my first blog was like stepping off a precipice. It is terrifying to nurture some words and throw them out there, realising people are actually going to read them. There are times when I feel unsatisfied with what I have written (OK, most times) and if I didn't publish it, those mistakes and blind reasoning wouldn't be here. It also means none of my writing would be here, and I would have lost out on the beauty and exhilaration (and strong sense of fun) I feel when I write and when (sometimes) these blogs make a difference or people enjoy them.

In The Prisoner of Azkaban (non-Harry Potter fans bear with me), there is a certain creature - a boggart - that assumes the form of whatever we fear the most. The only way to defeat it is to imagine it looking silly and nonthreatening (like the school bully in your grandmother's gown and cap) and shout "Riddikulus". It is a clever concept because most things we're afraid of are of our own making. That's not to say (continuing the metaphor) that there aren't other really scary creatures out there that we do need to be afraid of, but many of the ones we spend our time worrying about (or at least, the ones I do) are just spectres of our minds that can be defeated with a little healthy riddikulus.