Personal Agenda, Book Three

Personal Agenda, Book Three: Introduction

A few pages ago I solemnly said GOODBYE. Now I’m sitting here behind my computer, wiping the sweat from my brow in salute to the reader who has made it this far.

The first part of this final INTRODUCTION starts with a piece that I wrote as people were filing into drinking establishments for New Year’s parties (2003/2004). In the second part I refer to a few dreams that have gotten stuck in my memory over the years. The last part is taken up by administration for the third part of this literary project.

I. What I planned for this year/What I plan for this year

It is Wednesday, 31 December 2003, 25 minutes past 11 at night. There are 35 minutes left of this year. Because it has become a habit to write something at this hour, because it is usually a good idea, and because I’m not in the mood to pay a fortune to get drunk with a bunch of strangers, I am sitting where I’ve spent most of my time this year: behind my computer, writing.

As the title [of this part of the “Introduction”] indicates, I decided not to write about trains, women, teaching English, or the fact that you can buy cheap alcohol at the 7-Eleven on New Year’s Eve. This piece will cover plans.

There were plans at the end of last year, and there were plans at the beginning of this year. There were plans in May, and there were plans in July. There were also plans in August, September, October, November, and December. And then, as befits a New Year’s Eve, there are plans tonight.

My plan at the beginning of this year was to lift my exile and return to South Africa at the end of February [2003]. That was what I now call a “liberal plan”. I didn’t have enough money, and I didn’t really know what I would do in South Africa. I did like the “revolutionary” nature of it, though. Because the plan was a bit crazy, it set off a reaction I now call the “conservative response”. I (once again) thought, “Actually this place isn’t so bad,” and that staying in Taiwan until the end of 2003 would probably have a positive effect on my financial well-being and professional development.

By May, I had come up with the idea that I was never going to make enough money here in Taiwan, or with English teaching. “I need to do business!” I cried out. And went off on a coughing fit brought on by five years in a windowless apartment.

By June I was fed up. I propelled myself forward on the ink fumes from my notebook in which I furiously offered up notes and poems as compensations for all that wasn’t good in my life.

By July, I was determined that I was going to lift my exile in February 2004, and to haul a caravan into my family’s backyard in Bronkhorstspruit or Middelburg. Information was collected, pledges made, and dry twigs solemnly broken off from a tree in the garden – and planted in a vase back in Taiwan to remind myself of my promise just in case I forgot.

August brought the brilliant plan to quit my job at the pre-school and make all the money I needed with “Business!” End of September saw me in a new apartment, finally, after nearly five years in Number Fifteen.

All the free time I saw stretched out in front of me every day eventually made one thing clear: I am, in the first and final place, a writer. The project entitled “Personal Agenda” was my main project from February onwards. It remained my main project throughout the year. It was also what I kept myself busy with in the mornings, afternoons, and evenings when I was actually supposed to do “Business!”

I did finally start working on a few ideas that could be classified as commercial projects and continued working on a few others I had placed on ice earlier. After some months I actually completed one project. My Chinese also benefited from more time I had at my disposal. I have generally felt happier over the past few months, as I was in the first half of 2001, when I also spent most of my time in my apartment, hard at work on my own projects.

It is Wednesday, 31 December 2003. It is two minutes to midnight. Two minutes before a new year. Two minutes left of a good year …

* * *

It’s Thursday, 1 January 2004. It is one minute after midnight. It’s the beginning of a new year. Fireworks rattle like machine guns in the distance. Water is dripping from my toilet. The computer’s fan is making a noise, and my fingers are dancing epileptically across the keyboard. Welcome to a new unit of time in our lives.

Wednesday, 7 January 2004

Here are my plans and intentions for the next three years:

[…]

That being said, I would love to lift my exile as I have always hoped it would happen – by transporting my possessions and my person back to the place from where I departed on 16 January 1999. How things will work out, is how they will work out. We make plans, and then there’s reality. But we must continue making plans, otherwise we might just end up waiting day and night for a bus that may only arrive in fifty years. We don’t determine everything that happens to us, but until things do happen, we need to keep ourselves busy productively. This way we can also influence what will happen to us, and maybe even when.

II. Three dreams

I was very young, maybe five or six. I dreamed my parents and my sister (my youngest sister wasn’t born yet) and I were driving in our station wagon through some city. It was evening. We had become aware of someone following us. Later we were in an apartment. Everyone but I was asleep. The people that had followed us tried to break into the apartment. I was the only one who could hold them back, but all I had to protect myself and everyone else in the apartment was a box of matches.

As a teenager I used to have a specific type of dream. I would be in danger. I knew someone could help me … if I could just give a good shout. The problem was, I could never produce any sound.

The third dream is still conjured up by my subconscious from time to time with different backstories. I’ll be among a large group of people – say at an outdoor wedding, and then I start walking off on my own. After a while, my steps would become longer. Eventually my steps would become stretched to the point where I would float in the air for a few seconds. I would be so chuffed with this ability that I’d purposely stretch my steps as far as I can. It usually doesn’t take long before my feet no longer touch the ground.

III. Administration

The introduction of the final part of this literary project is shorter and more modest than the introductions to BOOKS ONE and TWO. The content is also organised differently.

February yielded a plan. Chapter One follows the development of this plan over the course of just more than a week. Chapter Two contains a few notes from January and February. February was not only the battlefield of a plan, it also brought a new, temporary order to power. Chapter Three contains the official history of this Commercial Dictatorship. I also arrived at a certain insight during the first week of the new regime. Its development can be viewed in Chapter Four.

This is then: The THIRD AND FINAL BOOK of THE PERSONAL AGENDA OF BRAND SMIT.

Friday, 2 July 2004

______________________

COM-DIC Document 001

WEDNESDAY, 25 FEBRUARY 2004

Business on which I don’t want to spend more than fifteen hours per week. I can spend sixty hours per week on commercial stuff, and I can make sixty times more money compared to what I can make spending one hour per week doing it. Every time I sit down to write a paragraph, I write a page. The more I write, the better I write; the better I write, the closer I am to who I truly want to be. Plus, the more I write, the more ideas I get. So, the less time I have to spend on business, the better.

[…]

I am tired of always lining up creativity and personal beliefs on the one side, and on the other side the extreme need of an income. I am fed up with playing these two sides against each other as if it is some 18^th century battle with me standing on a hill in my frilly outfit with a cup of tea in my hand, and on dropping my white handkerchief seeing how the two sides go at each other’s throats.

Here is the reality: I am the one who loses, every time.

This so-called commercial dictatorship is necessary, though, but it does now seem to be a classic manifestation of the conflict that I inflame between creativity – especially writing – and making money.

What it boils down to, and what will continue to be the situation for the following 97 days of my life is when I sit down behind my computer, I won’t click on the Writing 2004 folder but on a business-related document. Calls will have to be made, and action shall be taken that will culminate in the result of money in my pocket and in my bank account.

[…]

What is the problem then? Or maybe my question should be more specific: What exactly is the purpose of this so-called commercial dictatorship? The primary aim is to raise at least 100,000 New Taiwan dollars so that I can return to and continue my life in South Africa.

[…]

I move as slow as a continent-sized ice pack on the way to the North Pole. There are things that inspire me – otherwise I wouldn’t be sitting here, typing, but there’s no fire. I’m like a communist government fifty years after the revolution.

I’m just interested in getting through every day as tensionless as possible, and I would have stayed in my apartment for weeks on end if it were not for the following reasons: 1) I run out of cigarettes; 2) I never buy the kind of groceries that will allow me to cook for myself, so I have to go out for dinner every day; 3) I must go out at least once every day except Wednesdays and Sundays to teach; 4) sometimes I get in the mood for coffee in town, in which case I will convince someone to keep me company while I drink myself into a different weight class with one creamy coffee after another; 5) my boxes of cereal turn up empty every ten days or so, which means I have to do a cereal run to the Carrefour; 6) I go to the movies at least once every two weeks.

What do I do when I am in my apartment? What does my average day look like? I start with breakfast (the main reason I get up in the morning), have some coffee (the second reason why I get up), and smoke my first cigarette of the day (the third reason). Depending on what I was working on before I went to bed, I’ll either turn on the computer while the water is boiling or I’ll wait until after breakfast. When I do eventually make myself comfortable behind the computer, my routine is equally predictable. First, I will select a CD. Then I’ll put the disc in my Aiwa Discman. I’ll press the Dynamic Super Linear Bass button once (not twice), and after the CD’s been read, I’ll press the Play button. Then I will click on the FreeCell icon and play one or two games before I click on the Writing 2004 folder. Moments later I will be THE WRITER, with Abba or Juluka or ZZ Top blaring in my ears. After about 45 minutes, I will get up and make myself some tea, which is a prerequisite for my second cigarette of the day. (I’m mindful of my health; I always drink something, usually tea or water, during my smoke breaks.)

My day will continue in this fashion until I get hungry. I will then walk to the 7-Eleven for a box of dumplings or something with rice and chicken, or to the supermarket where the woman grills chicken in the evenings, and get myself some instant noodles and a can of tuna. After enjoying my meal, I will continue working on my project until I get hungry again, or until I have to take a shower to get ready for an appearance as an English teacher during the early evening hours.

After my return from the evening classes – usually at about eight – I will again have a cup of tea and smoke a cigarette, this time in the kitchen. (Although this may seem to imply that it will only be my third cigarette of the day, I will, in fact, have run through almost half a pack by this time. I just thought it might be boring to describe when, where and how I smoke every single cigarette.)

If I have been out of the apartment for a few hours, I would probably have turned off my computer, which means after having tea and a cigarette in the kitchen I will turn it on again. I will plug my earphones into the Discman, choose another CD from my collection, again press the Dynamic Super Linear Bass button once, and Play after the disc has been read. Then I will again click on the FreeCell icon, perhaps then the F4 key to see how many games I’ve won consecutively, and then F2 for New Game.

After two or three rounds I will open the Writing 2004 folder, and double click on the document I had been working before I had to go out. After an hour or so I will get up and take another smoke break.

Now, my smoke breaks may appear to the ordinary reader as an unnecessary waste of time and health. Allow me then to take you through a typical almost quarter of an hour which I so lovingly refer to as a “smoke break”.

During the daytime I usually smoke at the antique cabinet standing against the wall of my living room opposite the windows. From this location I would have been able to look out the windows if not for the fact that I close the curtains during the day (I always open them when I go to sleep). I can also see from where I stand the calendar hanging behind the front door. (On the calendar, a few days are currently marked; among them, February 23^rd, the first day of the Commercial Dictatorship, and Friday, June 4^th, the day I’m planning to leave Taiwan with bags full of Monopoly money I will steal from the nearest supermarket the day before.)

After briefly casting a gaze over all the familiar ornaments and wall hangings in the dusky room, I will take a cigarette from the packet, and despite the fact that there is a whole container full of lighters standing right in front of me, I will look around for my lighter. There, I will then stand, drinking my tea and inhaling and exhaling smoke from the cigarette for about ten to fifteen minutes. (I smoke expensive brown cigarettes that burn longer than commercial white tubes.)

As I stand there with my tea and my cigarette, I will think about my life. Among other things, I will think about the meaning of my existence, and whether or not I was called to serve some or other purpose, or I will consider ways to make enough money to go “home”. Naturally the ideas differ with each smoke break, so to keep track, my notebook always lies open on the antique cabinet.

Also on the cabinet is a container filled with pens, of which at least one or two can actually write. However, these pens are mostly of ornamental value. The pen with which I take my daily notes is the only one that has value at a particular point in my life. (Last Monday I discovered during a class that a pupil was playing with the blue pen I had bought in South Africa during my vacation last July. The pen had no ink left, so I donated it two weeks ago to the penholder in the classroom. When I saw the pupil mangling the pen, I was immediately upset, and although I wouldn’t have gone so far as to physically attack the child, I felt genuinely sorry for the pen. I was aware of the fact that this was not normal, but it felt as if I had betrayed the pen. I considered taking the pen home again but instead chucked it in the dustbin.)

It should thus be clear that drinking tea and smoking cigarettes are crucial factors in the development of ideas, and to focus for short periods on certain problems in my life without the distraction of a keyboard under my fingers.

Well, the Abba CD is finished, my posterior is aching for a break, and I am thirsty, and ready for another cigarette. I’m happy with what I accomplished during the last sixty minutes: I succeeded magnificently in hijacking a report by the Commercial Dictator for a few thoughts of my own. If I keep this up, the future can only be bright.

I must, however, cut out the table with plans and ideas that will make me rich in South Africa when I edit this piece for a literary project …

______________________

The 99 Days of the Commercial Dictator

MONDAY, 23 FEBRUARY 2004

The Republic rose from his bed this morning with the knowledge that this is not just an ordinary Monday. This – and the string quartet hits a few quick notes – is the First Day of the 99 Days of the Commercial Dictator!

Even though the morning was glorious and the day pregnant with possibility, it did not take long for a bit of turbulence to hit the Council Chambers. The COM-DIC wanted to start his administration with a little “house cleaning,” and asked the Writer to please lend a hand. The Writer indignantly flashed the COM-DIC a glance and said everyone knows he never touches a broom, to which the COM-DIC retaliated with, “No wonder the place looks the way it does!”

The New Leader then took it upon himself to touch a few spots in the Council Chambers with a broom and duster, while the Writer listlessly paged through a photo album. (This then almost resulted in a second altercation, because the People wanted to know whether time can be spent on photo albums during the New Time. The Secretary considered this matter for a moment. Then he declared that it had been permissible during the Time of the Writer, and because the New Time is based on the Dedication of the Writer, it should also not be a problem under the current regime.)

During the press conference that followed shortly after the cleaning session, the question arose as to who is technically responsible for writing the text that you, the reader, are currently reading.

The Secretary grabbed the microphone, and firmly announced that such questions, especially after the unpleasantness with the broom, will not be tolerated. He glanced sideways at his tea that was getting cold, and muttered to himself, “The last thing the Republic needs right now is a New Identity Crisis.” He snatched the microphone from its stand and roared, “This New Time will be remembered as a time of unity! Strife has no place in times like these! After all, does the Honoured Writer not stand for such noble principles?!” The Secretary realized the question forced a pensive mood on all present, then added, “And everyone ought to know better than to sling a broom in the Writer’s direction …

“Anyway,” he continued, “during the next 99 days the focus will be on one thing and one thing only: a shameless, unprecedented, feverish pursuit of profit. The reasons have long been laid out; the motivations are honourable. Certain matters must be made possible, and the Board unanimously decided in favour of this strategy during the last Big Session on Thursday, 12 February 2004.

“To the People, the Primary Characters as well as the Secondary Characters we wish luck and plenty of inspiration.” A glimmer of optimism was evident in the Secretary’s eyes. “Wisdom, skill, and good fortune are also our wishes for our Temporary New Leader, the Commercial Dictator!” No applause followed the use of the New Leader’s official title, but all the characters tried their best to look busy for the moment.

“Finally,” and with these words the Secretary’s face became solemn and the microphone was pushed back in its clip, “to the Writer we wish a pleasant furlough. At the end of this 99-day period work will resume on literary projects, hopefully with packed suitcases, and bags full of money. Long live … everything that is good.”

The Juluka song “Akanaki Nokunaka” had been chosen as anthem for the New Time, but none of the characters could pronounce the lyrics properly. Everyone knew the lyrics to the old Boer folk song “Sarie Marais,” though, and everyone agreed that it captured the mood most profoundly. The Musician was called in to accompany on his guitar, but he started trembling and mumbled something about a “terrible headache” – understandable since it was the first time in many years he was called from his obscure hiding place.

After the last mournful notes had drifted from the windows of the Council Chambers, all raised a single finger into the air and cried like One Man, “Let the New Time Begin!”

______________________

Advice to the youth

WEDNESDAY, 18 FEBRUARY 2004

What would be my advice to teenagers and students before they make critical decisions in their lives?

I would say: Get to know yourself in a variety of situations and in dealing with a wide range of people, and ask yourself how and where you want to fit into the larger community. Think about what you want out of life. Consider the reasons and motivations why you want to pursue those particular things, and why you want to fit into the community in a particular way.

You do not necessarily need to sort out all these things decisively and conclusively before you embark on any journey – study, work or anything else, but do not delay this process to a distant “someday”.

Lastly, think, and think again, before you accumulate financial debt before you have sorted these issues out. And if you’re in the habit of avoiding debt as much as possible, why spoil a good thing?

———————

[Is there a foolproof recipe teenagers and students can follow?

Probably not. The things I mentioned in the preceding paragraphs might be sound advice, but it’s also easy to verbalise when it’s someone else’s time to do it.

In the end everyone has to make mistakes, and sometimes it takes years before people have sorted out the above-mentioned issues well enough to be able to say: “This is who I am. This is where I want to be. This is what I want to do. This is what I want out of life, and these are the reasons why.”

The most valuable practical advice, considering the fact that it may take years to find or formulate proper answers to important questions, is actually something that everyone should already know: avoid debt.]

______________________

In five years’ time – the last fifteen years – parents have this responsibility

TUESDAY, 17 FEBRUARY 2004

I know who I was yesterday, and I know who I am today – but who am I going to be tomorrow, or in five years? I don’t need to know exactly, but I’d be happy to have an idea … or perhaps an expectation.

Who you are going to be will of course be influenced by who you were yesterday, and who you are today. But who you want to be tomorrow also influences who you are today, how you spend your time, and even how you feel about yourself.

* * *

I think back to the past fifteen years. My only major plan that ever turned into reality was to study at Stellenbosch University.

Examples: by the end of 1989 I wanted to study theology, but what worked out was a BA degree with a view to becoming a teacher; I wanted to go to Stellenbosch in 1990, but a lack of money forced me to do my first year at the University of Pretoria; in 1995 I wanted to go to Europe for at least a few months, but I was back in South Africa after five weeks; in January ’96 I thought of looking for work in Pretoria and environs, but at the end of June I was on my way to South Korea; in 1998 I wanted to go to England, but eventually I returned to South Africa; back in South Africa my original plan was to get some projects going, but instead I accepted a part-time job in Johannesburg; my big idea in 1998 was to belong and commit in South Africa, but by the middle of January 1999, I was in Taiwan.

The only big plan that ever realised was thus Stellenbosch. It is also significant that I had to remain longer in Pretoria before the train – so to speak – eventually left the station in 1991 with me and most of my earthly belongings. If I had gone to Stellenbosch directly after high school, I would probably not have been as much of a lost outsider as I was when I finally did arrive there as a second-year student.

What does that say about my 2004 plans? I don’t know, but I have to continue making plans, and I have to continue trying to make them work. I also need to have faith that “everything” will “work out” in one way or another.

* * *

Parents have the responsibility to at least try to lead the kind of life that a child can look at and say, “I also want such a life.” And the child must not only say this as a five or six-year-old but as a teenager of fifteen or sixteen, and even as a young adult.

If it is not possible for you to currently lead the quality of life that you want your child to have someday, it is your responsibility to educate your child and prepare them to strive for a better life than the one you currently call your own. One should be mindful of the consequences before telling a child, “This is just the way things work. We all have to accept it and move on.” Be realistic, but allow the child to dream.

If you as a parent do not lead the kind of life you dreamed of in your younger days, make the child aware of things that you might have done differently, and show the child possible routes that he or she may consider to not also become a “victim of circumstance”.

______________________