The Pursuit of Happiness, a subliminal piece by Isaac Mogano

Is it really ever worth it? Is it really ever worth the time we put into one another? Do you ever sit and wonder what life would be like without the rollercoaster of emotion we put ourselves through?

What I am talking about is “love”.

This one thing that has even scientists baffled. It has no solid evidence of its existence but yet the impact it has on our lives is emence. The one thing that experts are yet to decipher, we claim to have figured out. We have seemingly “cracked” the code but how wrong we are.

The flaw in our assumed understanding of love is clearly visible because the things it does to a person. Love changes the behaviour of a person, it alters your thought process, it rearranges your priorities, it brings about compromises you never thought you’d make, it stops you from sleeping, its effects are endless and yet we still venture into it. We invest our hearts into something we have zero knowledge about.

We constantly gamble with our heartshearts, putting them on the line for what is promised to be permanent happiness that only ends up being temporary and the pain it brings with it lasts longer than the happiness itself. We play black jack with souls, we lose our poker faces and put all our cards out in the open, at the mercy of this disembodied unknown entity. Some people say the risk is worth the reward but how many risks is one willing to take? How many times will you put your all up for grabs? How many aches is your heart willing to go through? How long will you look for the perfect scenario where the love you invest yields a profit?

We have all these questions about love but we often jump the gun and commit to the gambling process because its all we know. The idea of finding that one person that will make you happy for your whole life keeps us in the loop. We iterate until we leave the loop with somewhat permanent happiness, relatively speaking that is. We all wish our roll of the dice will be good enough to give you never ending companionship, endless care and physical affection.

The risk is worth the reward because there is nothing better than finding that one person that will make your heart skip a beat. The one person who was seemingly concieved with the one goal of making you happy always. The odds are against us, with over 50 billion people in the world, finding that one person is virtually impossible but human resilience keeps us going, searching for the missing piece to your puzzle, the endless pursuit of happiness.

We might never figure out the true meaning of love, we might never find our perfect matches, we might never find love at all but its truely a phenomena that we will continue to delve into. We will not stop until we figure it out, until we know what it is and why it makes us feel the way it does, until the tears stop falling because of it, until the jealousy it comes with fades away, until we find absolute happines. Until that day, we will continue to peruse what we know nothing of.

 

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More than just a crown

I’ve always asked myself why a black girls hair is defined as a crown and not her entire life. I’ve always wondered why we act as though her hair doesn’t make the loudest statement when she pulls up. I’ve never really figured out why we start from ‘head’ to toe and not say the hair is the alpha of the entire body. It’s always been an inquisitive bone that’s grown in me and poked my brain cells till I grabbed my pen.

As I’m writing this, I’m thinking about how every black girl has a story about their hair. About how it used to be long, how it used to be short, how thick it used to be, and how rich it is right now. A black girls hair is a concept. So triggering, so big of a deal. Explains why most people think they have the right to be generous enough to provide a black girl with their two cents worth of opinion on how they should do their hair.

It’s been controversial, it’s been jaw-dropping, it’s been celebrated and also been worshipped merely for its existence on the human body, just for being there, imagine just naming it a crown.
It’s more than just an aesthetic. I’m talking about a black girls natural hair. I’m talking about your Afro, your curly bouncy piece of magic located on the top your skull. So soft, so hard, tangled and smooth, a work of art on your head.
It’s so nappy, so damn bad, it’s a blessing you have been given by the Lords, the Gods, Mother Nature, and the Universe, bottom line, it’s yours, imagine!!!
I just want black girls to love their natural hair. It doesn’t even break when pulled during coitus, imagine.

It’s significance doesn’t just reflect when you look in the black mirror, it takes over, it turn heads, it burn bridges, and causes a few accidents, that’s what a bad-ass Afro is capable of.
Our hair is a journey, from not finding 75% of your basic products in an average store to having rude remarks at the salon like “why don’t you just relax?”. No, I don’t want to burn my scalp for no reason, my hair is not co-operating because you are not even trying to work with it. My hair breaks combs if you don’t give it the gentle treatment it deserves.

I am an ambassador for black hair, for the girls who are being told that they look like a hobbos. Who are told that their black hair associates them with every ugly behavior on this planet. Who see that their hair is used as a weapon to tear their originality down, because by invalidating it, the black girls magic is toned down, it’s lowered, and that makes the oppressors comfortable and then they become superior. You try by all means to look like them, as a result, you become second to them when you could’ve easily became first with your own liberating protein filament.
I just want black girls to love their natural hair first, before anything else.

Their Only Way Out Is the Way In.

Finding the perfect start to a story has always been one of my many challenges but at least I’m telling this one in the third eye, I mean third person lol.

Having grown up with a hyper imagination and mentality that always somehow seemed to have a lot of things figured out, this is one of the experiences that taught me something. Relationships form and shape in anyway these days and yes Ed Sheeran said that people fall in love in mysterious ways but this story has no other to outrun it.

When they started, it was immediate physical attraction. No assumptions, it was only for the night but the attraction never showed any signs of drought, they functioned. It felt like the night belonged to them, he held her close, said he wouldn’t let go. She was driven crazy but his touch. And his smile? Shit, she didn’t care about anything else. They had absolutely no clue what they were doing, just had this miscellaneous vague connection, all drawing back to the unbelievable physical attraction. This was a ‘lust-feeling’ pleasure which was incomparable. The guy is experienced and the girl is finding her feet in this game of the brave. He called her babe and yeah she slipped almost immediately. They continued with their breathless moments of enjoyment and wild behaviour with no attachments to them. So beautiful. So reckless and so satisfactory. She felt like she had everything, she was happy with her bit of fun.

Now what do we call things that are way longer than one-night stands? Where there is a line between intimacy and sexual intercourse? Yes, it had no strings to it but why were they having conversations about childhood experiences now? About dreams and insecurities? About goals and regrets? Why was the mind fuck so intense? They learned so much from each other, he seemed to enjoy fucking with her brain, she loved it. She blew his mind, amazed him, he changed the way she saw some things. They listened to the same music and did the same drugs, it is just so beautiful. But why did they get so comfortable in each other’s silence? Why did he make her laugh like that?

I think it’s because he didn’t know what he was getting himself into. He is just so perfect, so sweet, pure in her eyes, A BREATH OF FRESH AIR she called it when trying to figure out why she couldn’t stop thinking about him. He fell into a trap. She fell into an entrapment. The feeling of entrapment grew as they spent more time together. Every second night, the scenes were fiery and all sorts of erotic, nasty I tell you. She found herself reliving the moments the next day, swirling into a wave of giggles and blushes when thinking about him and his humour and how effortless it is. The way they would talk about politics, about music, personal encounters, about religion, and current affairs (lol gossip) and even about the Ghadamn weather. They are both opinionated which is good and bad at the same time.

I honestly don’t think he knew that laughter is her best trait. He didn’t know that she had a gift, laughter, her favourite emotional experience. Her favourite reaction to his amazing humour. He played with it so well. He giggled and won her. He has the most comforting laughter ever and I don’t think he understood how complementary and how perfect of a blend their humours are. He just does it so well. Their acquaintance looked and technically was a fling, but to them it felt like much more, it felt like a relationship. Neither of them could explain when and how it got that way so they just decided to make it just that, a relationship. They decided to flow, she decided to go with it because this guy knew how to make her glow. He figured out that she uses laughter to keep healthy, that laughter to her is up there with her nutritious diet and exercise, and he used it expertly, admirably, he used it magically.

It had been a long time since they were both in fixed relationships and stepping into one in such an unexpected way with shaky feet just like toddlers all over again, trembling and landing in and out of direction with this relationship thing. She has a thing for him, he has a thing for her. Not knowing whether to be affectionate, how and how much, they are taking it as it comes. They care about each other, why else would they walk into something so big in such a relaxed yet certain way. Trying very hard to make each other happy when at the same time trying to figure themselves out and understand whether this relationship thing is working or not. Taking every day as it goes but living at the mercy of each other’s appreciation. The lovemaking got magical and so did the confusion on whether they are going right about this whole thing or not. He thought she was beautiful. The physical attraction grew so huge, it formed emotional attraction. Their moods interchangeably affected each other. He loved examining her body, whether with his eyes or hands, he just did it, and so well. She thought he was God-Sent because she had honestly never met anyone of that breed.

What they have is magical. It’s insane. I just hope they get up if they fall. I hope their resilience game is as powerful as when he smashes from behind. I hope they grow strong, very strong. I hope they go in and out and in again of all the paths of affection. I hope they fall completely in love with each other, and treasure what they have. I hope they enjoy the shit out of what they have for each other, because it is so beautiful. They just must get in, that’s the only way they will get out…

Tangled Thoughts

I never knew what I meant to exist for. I’ve always wanted to save the world. To win. To give myself to the world and end up rich and famous. I’ve always fought the idea that people don’t have to support you, or even understand you. I lived to please a lot of people. I fed on people’s approval and got absorbed by their nods. I have always been a servant. Feared oblivion the most. I don’t even think I’ve changed so this is very crazy. I was meant to serve the world. I hope I said that right.

I don’t even know how I got here. When I noticed earlier this year that I won’t be tackling the course that everyone expected me to, I thought the world stopped spinning. It took me a while to understand that I’m not flying, and that nothing has changed. I thought it was over, that I was over. I thought I lost everything. I thought I was doomed and that my tomorrow was obliterated. I chose something different. I chose my world. I chose me. Nobody agreed and that’s what made me feel so content.

An LLB is something that is outspokenly underrated. One of the best choices to tame a person, ease their mind, cool their lives and confuse them even more. It is the drug that kills you so bad you never recover. Many a person will tell me I can’t say that because it is only my first year and that I should be more optimistic. I just do not know how to. I feel like it should not be an undergraduate degree because it strays from the legal system. In high school and primary, the system systemizes the mind. All the subjects done are made to change a person’s mind-set and make them educated and smart in accordance to the labour system of this world. Nothing legal except teaching them their rights.

It is not that LLB was not my first choice that makes me so head-in-the-cloud minded, not even. It is the way it strays from even all the relatable life issues that would make it so easy if you ask me. It is too realistic. Nothing systemized about it, if you think the way I do. Each and every content related subject opens up something you did not want to know about, the reality of this world you live in. I look at my seniors about to graduate with compassion evading my eyes because they have no idea what the world has for them. LLB has got the whole world opened up like a cabbage and not really much can be envied.

This course sucks the passion of life out of every juice in the veins because it gives you a big fiery slap of reality and how dead this world is. It made me realise that oblivion is inevitable. That this world does not have to perfect in order to be lived in. That people create happiness for themselves, whether true happiness or not, they would rather smile than know the truth. Nobody cares about existence if they know reality, so yes it would take me a lifetime to be in hell and realise I’m not in law school anymore. We are not afraid of death. Our minds have lived through the most in these lectures that tell us about this world. The big bold bombastic words used are really just a stage. People who don’t overthink are mostly the ones who leave this course to do brighter things because LLB is too boring or difficult for them. I am someone else and honestly I really do not know this person.

I guess nothing has changed, being a lawyer still makes me serve people. But this time it’s for people who are being exploited. Its saying my own version of events for people who really need to get out of situations they find themselves in.

About a guy

This is what I want in a guy that’s going to have the misfortune off having my heart. I say misfortune because it’s what everybody I’ve talked to, think. They say whoever I fall for, will be unlucky. Let’s see. I think it would be quite an ideal ordeal to start by first and foremost, telling you about the type of heart you will be dealing with. Here goes…

Fragile. Yes. Not the typical fragile that your mama has told you about. The “I do not want to have myself exposed” one. Again for the fear of exploitation. I live behind the high walls of coldness. I seek solace in brutality and act like I could not feel any pain even if it was inflicted in my bowel. That is how fragile I am. I use ‘bravery’ as protection from having my heart played. I have the tough act going. Just so no one would know exactly how meek I am. Everything else follows.

You mister, should have superpowers. Yes. You should be the person who will have my naked soul. For breakfast lunch and supper. All day. All your life. That is such a hidden statement but holds the whole truth and I’m glad you understood it. If you didn’t then that’s good. You are exactly what I am not looking for.

Please play with my brain. I love mind games. Be the most challenging quiz I have to answer. Confuse me. No, I’m not talking about academics. You can cum laude all your modules but that is just the cherry on top of a very large cake. No it’s not a forbidden element, it’s just not over glorified in my books. Be mysterious, very hidden but also be raw. Have all your cards on the table. Everything. Remember that you are dealing with a very unsure human who is still in a cloud of thoughts on whether or not she should open up. Be a magician. An illusionist. Insanity. Be imperfect. Have funny and embarrassing flaws. Have sad and heart breaking moments. Be very unconfident and be absolutely unapologetic about that please!!! Have a smart mouth. Don’t just run like a tap because that is very unattractive sir, trust me.

Be free. Be yourself. Open up. If you have missed anything mentioned above but believe that you have got what it takes, then I say go ahead and make my day. Actually, screw what I’ve written above, yes forget about it. Listen. Let’s talk for hours. Have a conversation. A bilateral one. A constructive one. I don’t usually have those because either the person will run like a tap. Or I will. or neither of us will. The vibes get hyper. I’ve never had a smooth conversation; they either have to be rocky or silent.

If you are going to have to practise for this one, then forget it.  It must come naturally. If it happens. I would have to tell my mother ‘about a guy’.

 

Envisage

If there is an award that should be created solely for me then it’s the award for irrelevance. I am random to such an extent that what I see in my mind is what bleeds right onto my keyboard. This title has absolutely nothing to do with what I am writing at the moment but the flow is just too solid.

I must say, pain is such a kind person. Really. This is because when we invite it in and it always comes. Mostly the invite is done unintentionally, clouded by loads and loads of preoccupation, ignorance, love, lust, hunger, hatred or maybe intoxication, or even anger ironically. My pain comes from my mind. I decided to name her Hazel. Yes, I just gave my mind a name. She is more than just a resident to old brains’ land lordship, she has moved to greater heights, to get greater views.

In my entire life I always thought I held everything together, but a night like this is begging me to fall apart. It’s funny how a person who’s known for always smiling and giggling is not liked by such a big number of people. You are told not to worry because well not everyone will like you and that you must know that people are jealous and full of hatred. You are given a boatload of stories and speeches about how staying strong will help you rise from the negativity and hatred bought by mankind. It’s just everything that most people who have the energy to keep on with the squabbles believe.

Don’t get me wrong, I’m not trying to be mother Theresa 2016 or anything, in fact, I am one for not caring and not begging where I don’t benefit. I don’t apologise, especially when I don’t feel like it. Sounds cool and strong right? Well no. it is exhausting and overwhelming. It is tiring and drains the living sauce out of your veins. I seem to love peace so bad, that I’m scared of it. Is it because too much of everything is not good? I’m addicted to controversy. It’s a good thing because you have your life lined out and no one is going to be parasitic whatsoever. Its actually a very good place to be. But what if you are just tired? No energy, nothing.

What if you just feel like apologising to all the people you have done wrong, or contrary. As long as you guys are not seeing eye to eye. Everyone. Old, young, close, not close, friend, relative, stranger and even the one who’s name you don’t even know. No, you are not looking for love or prizes or anything of that kind. All you are looking for is just that civil feeling. Nothing else. You just want to close your eyes knowing that no bad vibes are surrounding your head, or the head of your counterpart in the matter.

Every breath feels like the very last with this burden.  I’m living with demons and they are inviting more.

BEING AN AFRICAN WOMAN.

You did not think I was letting this one go now did you?

August the month in which women are celebrated in SOUTH AFRICA. In my country, South Africa, women are celebrated because of the immense bravery that was shown during the struggle. They are celebrated because of the contributions they made in the quest to overthrow the apartheid government. We celebrate women because they were strong, beautiful and fearless Lionesses who took leadership in the quest to revolution. When South Africans were at their troughs, their contraction phases, when all hope was almost gone, women decided to also step in, because they could, and they would, and they did.

I hope the irony is transparent. WOMEN? AFRICA? CELEBRATED?

This is a continent where AFRICANISM is at its peak. It is where it is borne and where it will orientate until the end of Africa i guess. Now, according to the African proverb which says : ‘Mosadi o tshwara thipa ka bogaleng’, the doings and happenings since 1952 are justified and women indeed hold the sharp point of the knife. Women have risked their lives and bravely voiced their thoughts on the ‘dompass’ law which was passed by the apartheid regime. This is exactly what we are celebrating and  this is what Mr President Jacob Gehlehlegisa Zuma urged during his speech, that it should be carried onto the next generation of women, and so on. We are proud of them, Lilian Ngoyi, The Late Albertina Sisulu and Helen Joseph, to name but a few. These women have really faced the honed edge of the sword and showed their two feminine power. The political activists that sat on the same thought cloud as the men.

‘Tja eta ke tshadi pele di wela ka leopeng’, this proverb reflects that if its lead by the woman, it will definately fail. Trust me, this proverb was still there and then when women were out there fighting. It was still there when the ANCWL league was initially founded and it still persists. An African woman was/is expected to sit behind the man and watch him take the lead because well, ‘the man is the head’, he is the ‘seed’, and he is the ‘axe’, thats Africanism for you.

Being a woman means deciding to break the ‘law’ like the women we are celebrating today did back in 1956, or submitting to your life and rules like could have done then, and that would not lead to todays female freedom of choice.

Being a woman means choosing between leading and being lead, shining and being overshadowed and ruling or being overruled. It means being put in your place, or putting people in their places. I am for breaking these norms and logics and rules and laws and proverbs against feminism, the women I am celebrating this month told me I can break these rules and change the world.

I AM MOHUBE KARABO KGAPHOLA THE PIONEER!!!