So I was on the bus this morning, casually making my way to work just like any other day. And against my will completely, I was smacked in the face with the topic of suicide. OK, I’ll set the scene. One of the many down-sides about getting the bus to work is that all of the school children in the city seem to try to squeeze their pubescent frames onto the confined space of a bus going through rush-hour traffic. And once they’ve sufficiently squeezed themselves on, they then speak at the uppermost levels of volume that they can reasonably sustain, about all of the goss that’s going on in their micro-societies.
And this morning, the topic of the day was a young girl, who was apparently in year 11, making her 15/16 years old. This girl was pregnant with twins. And this was her fourth pregnancy, after having the first three terminated. She was with the same boy who seemed to encourage her to get the previous abortions, and this time he seemed, as the word on the street suggested, somewhat put out!
Now, neither the pregnant girl, nor the impregnator was on the bus, allowing this particular group of girls to speak their minds about the topic freely, never mind the 100 or so strangers that surrounded them… So amidst proclamations about how stupid the girl is, and how they would never allow that to happen to them, in the same jovial and boisterous tone, one of the girls announced, “I’d commit suicide if that happened to me”. For me, the whole conversation took a serious turn. For them, it was just another comment that they all whole-heartedly concurred with, adding jokes to cement their assent.
I understand that they are too young to be bringing up babies, and it’s probably one of the least ideal situations to find yourself in. But suicide? It really shocked me. It made me wonder about the weak will that these kids seemed to possess. That they’d rather end it all rather than struggle and, for all they know, eventually find themselves in a not so bad situation. It made it clear what school isn’t teaching:
Life is hard - find a way to deal with it.
Ok, so the pensivebuddha has fully fallen off, as our good friend Drake might say. ‘Where have you been?!’ I hear you scream. In short, chillin’, stealin’, drinkin’ a Bud. In long, working and generally keeping up the hustle that is real life.Watch this space.
So as I mentioned before, I’m currently an intern for Schön! magazine. It’s a very visual magazine, and it prides itself in presenting the talents of the most creative people from around the world. Creative.
Now this is a concept that once I stumbled upon it a long time ago, I haven’t quite been able to shake. I picture myself in a suit and a 9-5, and a sincere shudder travels from the nape of my cranium to the tips of my toes. It just doesn’t seem to fit with the idea that I have of myself.
Now, when I read and research about designers and photographers and all of the creatives in between who have forged for themselves a credible and successful means of supporting their gorgeous lives, I can’t help but want to join the club. But where to start? Don’t get me wrong dear readers – I am not one of the idiot youth of our city who expect the world in exchange for zero work and effort. I’m fully aware that true success will not materialize until a great deal of hard work has first been entered into the equation. I’m eager to sweat and bleed into the road that leads me to my riches. But where does the road begin? Has it indeed even been forged yet? Will one more rhetorical question be overkill?
So frustration is the emotion of choice as I write to you this morning readers. General annoyance at the riddle that life seems to be taunting me with, and full-on annoyance at the answer that I’m sure is just on the brink of my consciousness.
But fear not – once I’ve worked it out you’ll be the first to know.
Pensive as ever, your friendly neighbourhood PensiveBuddha.
