#iamkitso

[tarmactapestry]

This is my 500th and final post. 

It has not been a long road that I have documented and shared, but for me it has been so worthwhile, it has been therapeutic and reflective. It has been a beautiful experience to look back at this space and be reminded of the small and effortless beauties of living, both the documented and undocumented spaces in time. every post reminds me of a state of mind, a state of being and existence that are so different and non-sequenced, it makes me nostalgic, and I want to live it all again, little year old me and her mission on the tip of the continent, to me right now, sitting at her laptop, contemplating turning 22 in 51 days time. I am grateful that I found 20 year old me and lived her life un-regretted and documented it all here, but I am ever more grateful for the opportunity to find a new me in the times to come, and be on a different kind of journey, a new one as somebody I have not just met yet. It has been hard to keep to them theme of a journey because sometimes life is stagnant and a bit stifling, but when you get to the other side you realize that. its not a matter of your path now being stagnant, its a matter of you trying to continue on a path you have ALREADY walked, it is about knowing when to start a new path with all that you have learned along your life's journey. This was my realization. Tarmac Tapestry has been a home of one path, and that path is complete, now is the time to close shop and be a new journey, I don't know what that is yet, but all I know is that wherever I am, I will be what is missing. Thank you for being part of this walk, and lets talk on twitter @Be_Kitso

Love, Light and Peace.

[tarmactapestry]

Its Weird...

Its weird. My tumblr used to feel more like a home, where I could come in, take my shoes off, pour myself a glass of Jameson, unwind with my feet up, and my weary thoughts freely unwinding themselves from a hectic day in a busy life.

Lately it has been feeling more like a vacant holiday home that I just come to check on without really switching on the lights at night, or opening the curtains or windows during the day, in fact I quite feel like the weeds have taken over my serene view out into the garden. This is all metaphoric and I can’t quite explain why I have been why, but this best describes how I have felt about ‘blogging’.

Perhaps its the semi-nervousness I feel when I have to type a post about my life in cyberspace because I am not quite sure what I should or should not say, perhaps its sinking into a routine life circulating around work and school, and a lack of social outings and ‘living’ to write about-and also the entanglement of my thoughts around thinking how to jungle school and work that has not allowed some fresh air into my mind to breath new ideas. Perhaps its the fact that life is really stagnant and repetitive.

Honestly, not much life has happened these past few months, I have had a routine of weekday lecture attendance, followed by weekday library studying for these nine modules I’m taking this semester, and ending off with a weekend of working at social do’s in Joburg-and ofcourse this has allowed no space for a social life of my own. In fact not much writing has happened except that of semester tests twice a week, and Cape Town didn’t happen either because, trust me, nine modules do not allow you time for any youth eating, but I am still young; Life is still hard; and I still do deserve nice things, so my time will come…

So dearest December holiday, I await to make love to you during sunny days, with ice cream and wine in denim shorts, and rainbow-town-painting nights until the sun comes up…

[tarmactapestry]

Hi

Up til now, I've said in bits and pieces who I am, and in more so the complexities that happen in my mind, and certainly the boulders in my journey,

now for the simple things,

My name is Kitso,

I've currently got the flu, I love mangoes and nectarines and pinapples and berry juice.

I don't like walking through or in front of crowds, it makes me shy,

I have two sisters, one older and one younger,

I have lots of random cravings all the time and sometimes I walk the food store isle by isle trying to find and figure out what it is I'm craving,

I have a sarcastic sounding tone when I speak (shrugs, don't ask how)

I live off pepper steak pies on campus,

I'm quite forgetful, a little clumpsy,

I love cashew nuts with nougat-together

and always always ice cream!

[tarmactapestry]

Cognitive Wasabi

Cognitive

Noun

Knowledge, awareness, or notice.

The action of taking jurisdiction.

: of, relating to, being, or involving conscious intellectual activity

Wasabi

"Nuclear horseradish." An extremely spicy condiment of Japanese origin, made from the root of the wasabi plant, ranking just below uranium in terms of destructive potential.

I am Cognitive Wasabi, another aka, potency of the mind and thoughts.

[tarmactapestry]

Kitso Rantao is a Lucid Interval is Tangible Nostagia is Cognitive Wasabi on a Tarmac Tapestry.

Wherever I am, I am what is missing

[tarmactapestry]

Hermaphrodite

I was raised by a hermaphrodite,

suckled me as a baby and taught me to ride a bike,

helped me with my make up on my wedding day,

walked me down the aisle

and threatened the bad boys that walked me to my door.

My mother was the man,

she worked hard and brought home the bacon,

and then,

she cooked it.

She was her own husband,

her own house wife,

and I,

 her daughter,

I am not fatherless,

my father is there in her, in that void he left in her when he left.

But there is no void in me, no part of my identity missing,

whatever I needed to be there from him is in me still,

derived from that single sperm that made me.

Perhaps his eyes,

 his smile,

his yellowish complexion…

oh but do not be mistaken, there are no Xs to be solved in my identity.

I am whole,

I am no fatherless child- my behaviour and attitude cannot accounted for by a lack of a father figure, for I saw him

on nights when the bills and a calculator lay out spread before her,

when she wrote Not Applicable across father’s details on my school indemnity forms,

most of all

on silent nights when we laughed and loved so intimately as a whole and wholesome family

and

in school valediction ceremonies when she beamed at me through a crowd of parents,

even

the days when she coached all day netball tournaments- with refreshments for the team.

My mom and me. My sisters and her. Our dad between us.

She can sit there at all lobola negotiations

amongst one dimensional fathers and state with accuracy;

the cost of each nappy she changed;

the colours she painted the nursery;

the number of nails she used on the book shelf that placed our education,

and the pride she felt when we graduated-

 that cannot be paid for.

All those that have face faceless fathers and claim to be daddy less little girls:

look in the eyes of your hermaphrodite mother

and the quality of your life will scream out,

thank you father!