How to deal with floaters and my other superstitions

I am of the firm conviction that the more you know and the less you believe the better you are off. However, I am not free of my own personal superstitions.

Let us take floaters as first example. These days I seem to produce a lot of them. I don't know whether it is because I am eating better or just whether it is because I have less stress. Whatever the reason, there they are. Now according to my 'belief' system the best way to get rid of a floater is thus: Don't look at the fucker while flushing. I swear that's the best way.

This works nine times out of ten when you are in your own home and apparently one time out ten when you are in a friend's house as I found out at my friend Jan's house last night.

I dread to think what would happen should I ever have a shit in my boss' house ... I don't think I will ever do it but one must be prepared for any eventuality in life. So I'll just take enough cash for a taxi and go and stink up the nearest restaurant.

Stemming from my floater belief comes my belief about watching my laptop connect to the Internet. I hit the button and walk away. It works nine times out of ten. I do the same for 'difficult' websites such as Scrabble. Connectivity in South Africa is not what it should be. I walk into the street or garden and scratch my head or balls and light a smoke and refuse to watch.

My signal on my cellphone modem at home is dodgy when the the sky is blue, which is often the case here, and even dodgier when there is a thunderstorm, which is often the case here. In the good old days when I was young and life was predictable one could have set one's watch by the outbreak of a high veld (a geographical area in South Africa. Joburg is about 1250m above sea level) thunderstorm. It happened for a half hour at 4:30 on summer afternoons and that was it.

Not anymore. Now there is rain about all of the time (well at least this summer) and everybody sagely agrees that climate change is a reality while very few people want to sagely consider the cause thereof. According to most scientific evidence it is not Al Gore's carbon emissions, but who cares about science if we can believe something else and get hysterical about it. It is so much more fun to 'care' about something and express that care loudly in public than to be seen as 'indifferent'. Climate change is a reality ... so do not fart.

I also do not check my bank balance when I am unemployed, believing somehow that it would decrease the rate of the decrease in available funds. This works zero times out of ten, but hey ... a belief is a belief.

I also somehow believe that retracing your steps when you have forgotten something at home or in a restaurant would land you in more trouble than whatever the forgotten item is worth.

This is totally irrational and if it is your credit card or wallet or cellphone that is in the restaurant make haste to get back there and retrieve it.

What else do I believe ... not much ... except that is better to have a low-paying job that you hate than no job at all. This works ten times out of ten because you will find something better soon enough. Yes, I do believe one should stay positive when times are shit.

Being an uWammba, suffering from Relentless Self-Promotion Fatigue and a Floater

I am an uWammba. That is the isiZulu word for an unemployed white middle-aged man with a BA degree. For a variety of reasons these are not much sought-after qualities in the South African job market. Until last month I was a mere Wammba, I gained the honorific prefix 'u' after a rather nasty disagreement with my boss.

At that point I was a rather glum individual. My prospects seemed to dwindle faster than you can say increased overdraft. The media market in South Africa, where my Wammba skills were still in some demand, is also on a bit of a slippery slope - indeed as it is worldwide - and jobs are hard to come by.

In a typical South African response to the crisis I went to my favourite restaurant and started to drink and speak to random strangers about my dilemma. I was truly a lost soul which is a difficult position for an atheist to find himself in.

Among the strangers I spoke to, were two journalists from Belgium. The woman, it had to be the woman, saw my pain and after listening to my wide and truly comprehending analysis of South Africa, she commissioned two stories from me for the princely sum of 600 Euro.

She also convinced me of the need for more insightful stories about South Africa in Europe and the world at large. Something a bit different than the normal gloom and doom that is the staple of international news coverage of the place.

That is when my career as relentless self-promoter started. I made it my mission to promote me and my skills, presumed talents and whatever to a new person every single day. I started accepting random strangers as my friends on Facebook, indeed inviting them to direct more people to my blog. I accost anyone I see in my favourite restaurant who looks vaguely foreign or media related and ask them to help me find contacts overseas so that I could write for them.

That was about three weeks ago and I went at the task at full throttle. Today I am suffering from Relentless Self-Promotion Fatigue Syndrome (RSPFS). I keep on promoting my blog on Facebook, but that is all I have energy for today.

The Laughing One suggested I write a blog and in fact it is the highlight of my day to do it.

Anyway today is sort of unseasonably cold and miserable and I had difficulty dragging myself out of bed as the RSPFS had me in its icy grip.

Then I had to get up to go to the crapper and that is where my problem with the floater started. The damn thing just would not go away. I eventually got rid of it on the seventh flush and that is when I realised again one must hang in there until the right wave comes along for you.

So here I am back to relentless self-promotion.

Tomorrow I am flying to Port Elizabeth ... I bought the ticket when I was still a mere Wammba. The Laughing One, the Fridge Guy, the Writer, the Laughing One's Chick and me spent a memorable holiday in Oyster Bay in the Eastern Cape over December and decided to do a bit more of the same over Easter.

I shall write from a coffee shop or bar in Port Elizabeth tomorrow while waiting for the Laughing One to come and pick me up to go to Oyster Bay where he has a house.