Accounting, Economics, Business Management and Mr. Keating

After finishing 2 out of 3 exams tied to an attempt in vain for a BCOM Informatics, I am daunted at what my life resembles. Why am I writing these exams? Spending hours, sacrificing life, time with mates, action cricket fixtures and Rugby World Cup review/preview programs.

Logically, I know why I am registered for this degree. To pretty up my CV. No real intention to finish this in a hurry, but with all the ambition in the world to start it. Now they expect me to write exams for the bloody thing too! How about an honorary degree based on intent, surely that’s worth something?

It is becoming glaringly clear to me that I have fallen into the rigmarole that is a corporate. As a young man, fresh out of school, I was faced with options of Pharmacy at Rhodes, Physiotherapy at Wits and IT at Natal University. No gap year or Euro tripping or bumming around on parental grace, just a student loan pertinent to a selected field. I folded and flaked at the last moment and did IT at Natal Technikon. A half compromise in my eyes. I did hold out till the very last week of registration and had a much cheaper student loan loom over my head.

These exams remind me of the very questions I had been faced with at Matric and Tech final exams. What the hell for? In my life I had made cavalier decisions, but only socially. My family’s financial standing meant flamboyance was limited to my circle of friends. Nothing near career path or life planning, just whether to drink beer or whiskey on the night….beer was cheaper.

As I strive to make heads or tails of where I am and where I am heading, it has dawned on me that I will never figure it out. All I can do is try to make the best of it…when it comes to my career anyway.

You see, I have been seduced by my lifestyle. Affluent, it isn’t, comfortable, it is. I do not count Rands and cents when I go to a store or worry about what is the exact minimum I contribute to a group restaurant bill. It works for me. But, it has shortened my minds eye (sight) with regards to following my dreams and passions…when it comes to my career anyway.

For a day, I am King…every Saturday, during cricket season. My job finances these fantasies. As it has Optimus Prime, my overly priced cricket bat, ventures to movies, the car I drive, the DVDs and CDs I collect and the gigs I review.

I fully understand that round pegs fit square holes in this working world, this is how it works. We need to live, in the monetary sense, that is.

However, there is on last world where we can truly be philosophical poets. Dream on dreams and toss away our fears. Fling away inhibitions and hope above all hope that you are not alone with your perceptions and stand point. Doctors, Lawyers, Bankers, these are all noble trades that are necessary to sustain life. But love, laughter and romance…these are what we live for! Poetry, affection, shrieks of laughter, these are the things that fuel us getting up in the morning, hoping that inner flame will be awakened from the dormant glow that simmers in the pits of our souls.

If there is one place, just one place (read with William Wallace accent) in this modern, intellectual age where we get to be cavalier and flamboyant, let it be in the romantic realm. Believe in the fact that you will fix yourself, should the outcome be negative. Believe that giving something a chance, when it ekes even half an iota of potential, is the right thing to do. You are broken and cracked, so is everyone else…discover this knowing that whatever the final chapters read, you did so with minimal hesitation. Let the Elizabethan degrees of romance be something that you liken your attempts to. Do this knowing, without an ounce of reservation, that your life will actually turn out OK. And know that you did all you could, it’s the least you could ask yourself.

We work jobs we don’t like, for shit we don’t need…why not let this one facet feed the soul and make it all worthwhile. Like only it can, romance stirs insanity, along with it, those damned butterflies, sweaty palms, animal noises (when you speak to her) and animalistic feelings (when you touch her). Somewhere along the line, age does something to taint and tarnish this most whimsical of theories. We are taught that prudence is to be exercised when getting into something with potential. It is true, you cannot live on love and fresh air….but love does make you come alive!

And laugh a little too, it might make that analysis document that much more bearable.

“…the powerful play goes on, and you may contribute a verse. What will your verse be?”