A Personal Taste of Nelson de Gouveia

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Love Star Trek much?

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love star trek
There are few subjects I can usually relate to people about. Sports are as functional to me as sex, I just don’t know the people performing in both. Even an ex-girlfriend successfully stood me up when I tried to open up the fuel-tank for a van I hired to move home.

But I love Star Trek…hold onto your ridges, Mister Worf.
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Cape Town Blog – Waking up to a brand-new world

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And a wonderful to you all from a finally overcast Cape Town, South Africa.
From my little room I share in my brother’s wonderful house in the suburbs, I woke up dazed and confused early this morning to find two things that perplexes even the most astute of single gentlemen that walk the earth as directionless as I am:
1. A phone call from my sister demonstrating a cheap car on Gumtree called a Ford Lazer (yes, I write this wishing I could show my fingers making the Dr. evil signature move)
2. A black cat called Peanut licking itself in area devoid of appropriate testicular contents.
It’s been a surreal week and a half getting to know my family once again, regaling them with wonderful anecdotes of stories from the colonial master land that is the United Kingdom, and wishing them health and love as best I can without sounding TOO droll. As yet, I have not had the chance to meet up with old friends due to a distinct lack of transport (public utilities usually consists of a man driving a van with a monkey-wrench for a steering wheel) but when I do, I hope it will be fun and interesting.
And yes, hun, I’m still waiting for you to answer.
Monday night saw me perform my first set for over a year at a lovely little bar in Rondebosch, expecting droves of UCT students eager to giggle their sides, and to be fair the 10 guys staring at me gave me the challenge I wanted most: a chance to test my mettle as a all-round entertainer.
And true to their word, they tested me.
Still, it was nice to walk off stage and blokes coming up afterwards saying, “China, you was ace, eh?” followed by a handshake and a shoulder-bump, a clear sign of me being accepted into the audience acumen of approval.
Ever been shoulder-bumped? It’s like an audience Jay Leno nodding and saying you’ll go far.
So today I’ll be setting up a portfolio of shots thanks to a wonderful photographer I know, looking for menial work, openings up the money-grubbing bank account and reading up on the day’s stories for new and exciting material, to mold and shape it into wonderful jokes that will leave them thinking that their lives can be for the better if they look past the errors of yesteryear and just accept that inside, we…are all…pink.
Cape Town, bring it on.
See me Thursday night at the Chilli Bar in Southfield where I’ll be sweating it yet again.

Going Offline – Day 1: Deleting my addiction

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goodbye facebook addiction

You know you’re truly alone in the universe when you begin to comprehend the vastness of outer space, the endless, unyielding vacuum that goes on and on and on for billions upon trillions of light years AND beyond, with wonders never before seen, and if you’re reading this, you never will either. Because you have an addiction.

Similarly, you’re truly alone when you delete your Facebook account settings off your universal chat program you’ve used to incorporate all your contacts together, to find only 7-8 people you used to chat to on MSN, Yahoo, Google and various others.

Yes…I’ve deleted my Facebook account.

I haven’t deactivated it, and I could’ve just shut it down and never use it for AGES, and you’ll come back to people having sent you messages like, “Where are you, what you been up to?” Etcetera.

No, I’ve DELETED my Facebook account.

Wiped. Clean.

Why?

Because I have an addictive personality to all things technological, always have. As a kid I took things apart and tried to put them back together. I learnt soldering techniques from my Uncle when his business was working arcade machines, and he would slave over the gameboards making sure the transistors that came loose thanks to some punk kid shaking the cabinet.

I would watch as he would melt thin, weak metal to make sure two wires would conduct, then connect it all up.

Facebook, however, is FAR from technological. Facebook is a social nightmare.

In addition to my addictive personality, I’m a little cowering worm in social circles. I compare myself daily to everyone that I pass on the street, let alone the people I judge to be my peers doing better than me, working harder than me, feeling happier, wonderful, amazing, excited, jubilant.

And I sit at home, without a job, realising that while I watched as everyone lived their lives, I wasn’t.

Sure, you’ve seen me around hanging out, making the odd joke here and there, having a drink or two there, maybe working on a project with friends now and again. but all the time, whenever there was a moment, I would “check my Facebook” to see what the most exciting thing is today without contributing much to it myself.

I am a social pariah, yet Facebook was still my only “in”.

No more. The people that matter to me have my number should they want to reach me and vice versa, my family have Skype (and heaven help me, soon I’ll be with them so won’t even need that), and emails galore.

I’m done with Facebook.

I don’t want to virtually compare myself to other people anymore, it’s just too draining. And to be honest, I ahve to admit that it cost me a career in my chosen field. People that wanted to trust me couldn’t because they couldn’t depend on me whether I was working for them or online seeing what “thingy-thingy is doing with their family”. To all my former colleagues, I apologise.

I’d prefer to just understand that, in this life…I’m alone.

Sorry, I know this is a depressing blog post but I am really fed up, so my relationship with Facebook is over.

Cigarettes, you’re next.

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