Monday, April 9, 2012

The iPhone identity


My husband got his first iPhone last week after a few years believing his BlackBerry was his most prized possession, until the last month or two when it started giving hassles and he believed it would look better in a thousand pieces on the floor.

I’m due for an upgrade next month and I also plan on replacing my tiny Sony Ericsson Xperia Mini with an iPhone. I’m excited but also extremely nervous.

Maybe I’m showing my age, but my husband said something a few days ago that has stuck with me ever since. He said having an iPhone is not like having any old phone; it’s a whole new identity.

I can vouch for his claims, because ever since he acquired the device, I’ve become chopped liver and get more attention from the television set. I’m trying not to complain too much about it because I imagine I’ll be the same when it’s my turn. We’re all like that with a new phone, right? It’s a new toy; something we’ll fiddle with for hours on end during the first few weeks.

In just two days, my husband has been swallowed up by Instagram, Draw Something, iChat and a motocross game he finds incredibly fascinating because he can control the bike simply by tilting his phone. In his place is a person with a vague resemblance to my husband, only with squint eyes and warped thumbs.

And still, the “whole new identity” bit is haunting. Social networking only really took off when we were in our early twenties. We use some platforms, like Facebook and Twitter, but not others, like Mxit – we missed that age train by a few years. It’s strange – even though my brother is only eight years younger than I am, I still feel as though he was born into a whole new generation. Social networking is all he’s ever known.

And even though a journalist friend of mine recently attended an event that revealed that youngsters think people with iPhones are old, the iPhone is still an incredibly connected device that facilitates social networking like no other in a way I have never experienced before – and I’m scared. I don’t want to be like one of those teenagers with their thumbs permanently glued to their phones and their eyes averted from the path in front of them. I want to be here when I’m here; not here, but not here because I’m somewhere else via the iPhone.

For now, I’ll enjoy only using my phone to send text messages, make calls and browse the Internet occasionally. Who knows what I’ll be doing this time next month.

I hope you’ll still recognise me with squint eyes and warped thumbs.

Thursday, March 29, 2012

Want a hot cross bun? Show me your Bible first

I've come across two instances this week of Christian irrationality.

I have quite a few Christian friends, and I respect their beliefs, which is why I never blogged on the Red Bull ad that got a bunch of Christians hot under the collar. I'll admit, when my husband and I saw the ad on TV, we exchanged knowing looks that it would be pulled the next day in response to Christian outcry.






What I didn't expect from Christians, however, was the claim that Red Bull should have asked Jesus' permission before featuring him in its ad. Really? Really??


Ok, I said I wouldn't comment on this, so I'll change topic to why I'm really writing.

Some Christians have taken issue with the fact that Woolworths had a Halaal symbol on its hot cross bun packaging. Because, apparently, Christians have laid claim to hot cross buns and no one else is allowed to eat them. I wonder how many Christians eat matzos at this time of year? (I highly recommend you read the comments under this story, by the way).


And some are even threatening to boycott Woolworths because of it. Some are even more extreme in their anger: “I hate woolworths... How can you do that to the Christians, I hope that God will have mercy on you. And dnt be surprised if your shops run bankrupt.. I will pray to my living God and you will see what he is capable of! [sic]”. Wow, very Christian-like indeed.


Maybe they should be more like the bishop who said "there are a lot more weighty issues to deal with in SA than a few 'hot cross Christians'". *snigger*

Hot cross buns, believe it or not, pre-dated Christianity. "...it is believed that buns marked with a cross were eaten by Saxons in honour of the goddess Eostre (the cross is thought to have symbolised the four quarters of the moon); "Eostre" is probably the origin of the name "Easter".



Anyway, whatever.


Now Woolworths is making separate buns for non-Christians. I find this all very petty and pathetic.


Is Christianity not supposed to be about tolerance and acceptance of all? To me, it seems like a very exclusive club. Religion is causing unnecessary tension in a society that has a lot more pressing issues to busy itself with, and fighting over who may or may not eat hot cross buns is reflective of very closed-minded thinking. 

Friday, February 24, 2012

A different perspective


“My cat was arrested for stealing my neighbour’s milk and fish. Need money for bail.”

I had to look twice to make sure I had read the message on the street beggar’s sign correctly. Normally I’d avert my eyes and sheepishly fiddle with the radio or my cellphone each time a beggar or vendor sidles up to my car window, silently pleading with the robot (traffic light, for the Americans) to turn green so that I wouldn’t have to unsympathetically shrug my shoulders and shake my head. But this guy tricked me.

I laughed. He saw me laugh. His cheesy, toothless grin didn’t help, either. I had to give him the R2 coin, reserved for helpful car guards, that was lying in my car door storage compartment. He tucked the sign under his arm, screamed thank you in my direction, before rushing off to collect more money from more outstretched arms. His tactic was working.

This got me thinking. The “industry” this guy operates in is so saturated. It’s uncommon to see a robot (traffic light, for the Americans) sans beggar-slash-street-vendor-slash-child-abuser. We’ve become immune to the “No work, no food, 5 kids, 3 wives, 20 dogs” signs; they’re as common Julius Malema’s word vomit.

Until one guy thought up a way to stand out from the rest, to force people to notice him.

Sure, we quickly wind up our windows as we approach intersections; avoid eye contact with those regarded by most as a nuisance. But the fact of the matter is that the government has failed them. There are no jobs, no skills training. This guy made the smallest change to a tried-and-tested model and probably got R10 in the two minutes I was waiting for the light to change.

It’s something we should all apply in our lives; one small change could make the biggest difference. Rewrite the rules, don’t be afraid to break away from tradition, and force people to acknowledge you.

It’s too easy to go with the flow, to blend in. It takes guts to dare to be different, with the thought of failure looming in the background.

For the street beggar, it’s the only way he’s surviving.

For those of us who are already surviving, one small change could be the key to living.

Wednesday, February 8, 2012

Stephen Fry is my hero

He really is.

Although this obsession only recently started gaining momentum.

It all began with this tweet:


Swoon indeed. I didn't even know he had produced this documentary series. I eagerly read the blurb to my husband, part of which reads: "The series travels the globe as Fry takes viewers on a journey through the thousands of years since man first mastered speech to the cyber world of today ... Revealing how language is used, abused and continues to evolve, Fry's Planet Word looks at whether we are any closer to understanding the most complex activity of the human brain."

"Well, I bet that made your day," said my husband, after I paused for breath.

And, boy, did it! Until I discovered that the documentary - all 291 blissful minutes of it - is not (yet, I hope) available in South Africa. Damn and blast!

The book is, however. And I need them both. NEED them!

And then this too-awesome-for-er-words video appeared by chance in my inbox yesterday, in a newsletter forwarded to me by my boss. I've watched it ten times, and it's playing in my ear as I type. Two Stephen Fry nuggets of gold in one week! What luck!


AND it just so happens that a Top Gear re-run on SABC 3 on Sunday featured none other than the man himself, although I must say that he's better at steering language than he is a reasonably-priced car.


I think the universe is trying to tell me something...

I'm only glad that I have a handful of friends and an awesome professor who get as excited as I do about all things language, grammar and punctuation. It might be a good place to point out that I am in the language business and am also a current language student. No bias, whatsoever, then.

Now you'll excuse me while I watch that video for the 11th time....

Tuesday, February 7, 2012

A racial storm in a misplaced teacup


The Virgin Active “racism” saga is not sitting well with me, and although I shouldn’t be, I’m a little annoyed.

I’m annoyed because the issue at hand was never about race to begin with; it was about inappropriate behaviour in a public environment, but being South Africa, that card had to be played. It always does.

In a nutshell, a Virgin Active member, Liz Hleza, claims she was a victim of racial abuse when, in a spinning class, she was attacked by a fellow spinner who didn’t appreciate her enthusiasm, which was expressed by yelling ‘yebo’ every so often. Hleza claims she was called a cockroach, a c**t and a k****r.

The Internet and social networks have run wild with this, slamming Virgin Active for not reacting appropriately and calling for the alleged racist to be named and shamed.

Here’s how I see it.

Being an avid spinner myself, I know that it is not uncommon to have the odd over-excitable spinner who likes to make his or her enjoyment known through the odd whoop or whistle. Nothing wrong with that. Spinning classes are, after all, about the energy rush and the pure satisfaction you get after completing a level 10 climb without bursting your main artery. Hell, one of my instructors makes us sing that awful “Hey baby (I wanna know if you’ll be my girl) song; if we don’t sing loud enough, she makes us turn up the resistance. Making a noise is encouraged.

What annoys me to no end in a spinning class are the two friends that sit next to each other and jabber the whole way through the class, straining their voices over the blaring music. It’s enough to make me want to squirt them with my water bottle and tell them to “shoosh”, as the alleged Virgin Active offender’s friend did to Hleza.

So I can understand the guy’s frustration at the continuous shouting throughout the class. Spinning takes a lot of concentration (sticking to the beat while hovering your butt over the seat is no small feat), and that concentration is very easily broken, especially when you’re trying to hear your next orders from the drill sergeant, er, I mean instructor. When you eventually are in your zone, it’s highly annoying to be jerked out of it by mindless chatter or, in this case, constant screaming.

Hleza, who felt she didn’t get the right response from Virgin Active’s management, took her frustrations to the media.

Shock. Horror. Queue social media outcry. Racism is, once again, in the spotlight.

Conspicuously absent from the media reports, however, was the alleged bully’s side of the story or any neutral account from other people in the class at the time.

Granted, if there was tension to that degree in the class, the instructor should have tried to defuse it, asking one or both offenders to leave the class. Granted, too, if the situation did indeed escalate to the point that the ‘k word’ was thrown about, then management should have gotten involved.

Let’s just state for the record that every South African and his dog knows how offensive that word is and how much trouble one can get into for even whispering it under your breath. Throwing it around loosely in the same way that one would, say ‘idiot’, is social suicide. Why would you do that? It’s just stupid.

The problem is, according to a witness account on Ray White’s 702 Early Breakfast this morning, that word was never used. Not once.

According to the witness, the ‘bully’ first asked Hleza to keep it down. In response, she yelled louder and more frequently. The bully called her a cockroach. He deserved to be pushed off his bike for that (with his cleats still fastened). But then … Hleza apparently proceeded to antagonise him, daring him to call her the ‘k word’.

The situation reminds me of a time, years ago, when I would irritate my sister until she hit me, just so I could get her into trouble with my parents. Childs play, really.

This smacks of attention seeking to me. The fact that she took her story to the media and said that he had used the expletive, when witnesses say he didn’t, means something is deeply wrong in our society.

However, what’s even more disturbing is that the media jumped on the racial bandwagon, without once reporting the other party’s side of the story or even bothering to contact witnesses. Unethical and irresponsible reporting to the extreme.

Has anyone ever once stopped to spare a thought for the alleged bully? He’s been made out to be an intolerant racist, yet he was merely trying to enjoy his exercise session.

Added to this the can of worms that has exploded all over Virgin Active’s face. Now people are emerging from cracks in the walls, telling of how they, too, have been victims of racism at the health clubs. Even more worrying is that the Mail & Guardian is encouraging people to share their racism experiences at Virgin Active, designing an entire form for people to fill out detailing the incidents. What are we doing??

Pouring fuel onto an inferno is the last thing the media should be doing.

It’s bad enough that people all over Twitter are supporting the victim, with the word ‘yebo’ even trending and being bandied about like a joke. Mail and Guardian editor Nic Dawes even tweeted: “YEBO! As you heft that weight, YEBO! As you hit the pool, YEBO! On the treadmill and the bike. YEBO!” So much for balanced and fair reporting.

Where’s the other side in this? Where are the witnesses?

The fact remains. This was about inappropriate behaviour, not about race. It’s sad how easy it is to start a racial war in this country. More tolerance, people. It’s the only way we’ll survive.

Sunday, February 5, 2012

The truth hurts

But sometimes it needs to be heard.

I have found myself in the awkward position on more than one occasion recently where I have had to tell close friends, family members and colleagues that their words and/or actions have been harmful to those around them and those closest to them.

Never one for confrontation, this was one of the hardest things I have ever had to do. Ever.

In the past, I most probably would never have said anything to the offenders, turning a blind eye or a deaf ear, but the three encounters I've had over this past month have been deeply personal and my husband gave me a swift kick up the you-know-what, saying it was time I stood up for myself and spoke my mind.

So I did.

And I felt like crap doing it.

But after the fact, I never felt better. And I came to realise that sometimes people just don't realise that what they are saying or doing is affecting anyone else but themselves. I guess it's human nature to be selfish, and in the age we're living in, that's ok - to an extent.

(Image from Google Images, Pro Bono Coaching Web site)

Of course, the flip side is that the person you're confronting might get defensive and/or offended and it's at that point where you need to re-evaluate that relationship and consider whether the best option would be to sever ties. In my case, I lost one relationship, but that was my choice. It was a poisonous relationship and one that wasn't adding any value to my life.

Speaking my mind on two issues actually improved my relationships with my folks and my oldest friend, and though it was extremely difficult at the time, I'm glad I did it.

Of course, if I were on the other side of the confrontation, I would want to know if someone was not happy with something I had done or said. I know it would be hard to hear; I take things very personally and would probably dwell on it for months, but sometimes reflection and correction are necessary in an age of selfishness.

Sunday, January 29, 2012

Time flies when you have no social life

The topic of blogs came up in a conversation between my friend, Tessa, and I recently. We'd been reading some particularly horrid ones and ones that were pure inspiration on a computer screen.

It got me thinking about my own blog and the neglect it had been subjected to this past year. I decided to pay my shunned child a visit and was quite shocked to find out that the last time I (properly) blogged was just over a year ago. This realisation made me feel both ashamed (as I had promised my handful of readers that I would get better at this) and somewhat numb by the fact that an entire year had passed!

So Tessa and I made a deal. I would write a post this week, and she would start her own blog, with the intention of sharing her gardening and cooking experiences. The idea is that we would encourage each other to post at least once every two weeks.

So, I figured, what better place to start than a follow-up on my year-ago (proper) post?

On 14 January 2011, I blogged that I had joined a gym. This was no small feat, considering my past gym/exercise experiences, and I wasn't convinced I would stick it out (money-saving incentives aside). Who would have thought that a year down the line I would be an avid spinner who hauled her ass to the chlorine-smelling establishment three times a week for some good ol' torture. I love it! And I do believe it's played a huge part in my stress management this past year.

Gym aside, I made some pretty big decisions in 2011, I discovered what I am capable of, changed jobs, and even got a bout of bad news, but nothing that a positive mindset can't cope with.

I decided early on in the year to go back to university. I started my Honours in Journalism after I got my degree in 2006, but dropped out after a month or two when I realised it wasn't for me. I remember my mom being very upset, I think she may have even cried. I promised her then that I would get my honours one day, although I wasn't entirely convinced myself at the time. Fast-forward six years and I finally decided to take the plunge. Deciding to study towards my Honours in Linguistics part-time while working full-time was absolutely terrifying. That being said, I am halfway through and I actually can't believe it, even if it did murder my social life. I start my second year next month and I'm actually excited. *Insert mental image of my teenage brother yelling 'nerd!'* It helped having the support of my husband and family as well as the encouragement of my professor to push through to Masters level. Hmmm, well.... no decision there, yet.

I also abandoned my comfortable position and the toxic environment of my previous job and started working for ITWeb. The people, the work, the appreciation was like chalk and cheese and I can't believe it took me so long to cut my losses and move on. They say we're creatures of habit and I do feel that returning to my old job in 2010 after spending nine months in London was probably not the smartest move I've made, but it was a necessary one. I'm glad I did because I had some epiphanies, the biggest of which is that one environment can produce the best of friends and the worst of enemies, but they're all life lessons I'm glad I signed up for, because they made me a stronger person and gave me the courage and confidence to change my path and seek a healthier environment.

I found out, too, in 2011 that I have arthritis in my right ankle. After my car accident of 2006, the doctor warned me that it would happen, I just wasn't expecting it to happen so soon. It was a bitter pill to swallow. I allowed myself to wallow in self-pity for a few weeks, but at the end of the day, I can still walk, I can still spin (whoopee!) and I have it mild compared to others. The arthritis hasn't bothered me much, I have uncomfortable days but I'll never admit to them. My grandmother, who never complained once while cancer ravaged her body, was a great inspiration to me. People have their own issues to deal with; they don't need to shoulder your burdens, too.

So as I enter another whirlwind year, I thought I'd change my blog design and my outdated profile picture. After years with raven hair, I also went red in 2011; they say everything happens in threes; apparently the same goes for life changes in one year. Time permitting, I'll try my best to stick to the one-post-every-two-weeks agreement, but I can't promise anything.

In the event that I don't, click through to some of my friends' inspirational blogs:

Jozibelle - Warrior mom in the city of gold - by Paula.
Food 101 by Michelle.
Tessa's to follow soon.

Viva 2012!

Thursday, May 5, 2011

Virtual reality + real life = money spinner

http://blog.coup.co.za/2011/05/virtual-reality-real-life-money-spinner/


I’ve never understood the Farmville craze. I’ll admit that I played Petville for oh, I don’t know, maybe a week, but the novelty wore off very quickly. The only lesson provided by the time and effort it took to keep a non-existent pet alive, decorate its living quarters and pick up its smelly socks and banana peels was to give me a taste of what it must be like living with a teenager. The fact that I got no love in return from my purple, vampire-toothed ‘dog’, other than a silly dance and a weird cooing sound when I fed it cake, cemented my hesitance to even think about having children.
Similarly, if I had to spend hours on end tending a farm I could never touch, planting carrots I could never eat and buying cows I could never milk, I would have to seriously question my mental state. I want to see the efforts of my, er, labour and get tangible results.
So when I first heard that 10 000 virtual farmers will be making decisions about a real farm in the UK, with real animals and real plants, I might have scoffed at the ridiculousness of it all. Are we really getting that lazy that we find it appealing to farm from behind a computer screen? For £30 a month, subscribers can make decisions ranging from which crops to grow to which livestock to rear on Wimpole Home Farm. I’m not kidding.
Partly inspired by Farmville, “subscribers will be expected to make key decisions on which crops to plant, which animals to buy and whether to put in measures such as new hedgerows to help wildlife. They will be asked to make 12 major monthly decisions during the course of the year as well as other choices”. Dame Fiona Reynolds , director-general of National Trust, which is managing the farm, said the scheme was “all about reconnecting people with farming, giving them the chance to get involved with and feel part of the farming community and farming life and give them a greater understanding on how the food they eat gets to their shopping basket”.
While you could probably convince me to play this version of Farmville before I venture into Petville land again (I’m sure my dog must be dead by now, I can’t even remember his name), it still smacks a bit of a money-making scheme. If the initiative were to attract the desired 10 000 subscribers, that would bring in £300 000 (R3 290 618.45 at current exchange rates) a year. That’s quite a pretty penny for a farm that is reported as being “currently commercially self-sustaining”. Why didn’t I think of this?!
We were warned about this – that virtual reality would one day merge with real life. It seems Second Life was onto something all along. I wonder if the virtual farmers get a slice of the produce pie? Seems a bit unfair to expect them to pay an annual fee and not get at least a pint of milk in return.
What are your thoughts on the translation of virtual reality into real life? Do you think initiatives such as this will be successful?

It’s a Royal Wedding tsunami! (And we’re all in the way)

http://blog.coup.co.za/2011/04/royalweddingtsunami/


When I first heard that Wills and Kate were taking the ultimate plunge, I can’t say I reacted any differently to how I would react if I were told that ‘Brangelina’ were splitting and reclaiming their own identities. Who cares? Well, apparently, quite a lot of people.
What I didn’t expect was that the grand event would take place so soon after the engagement, but when you have an entire staff complement attending to your most basic of needs, and you don’t need to fret about the flowers, the dress, the bridesmaids’ dresses, the DJ, the venue, the menu, the minister, the rings, the invitations, the seating arrangements, the wedding favours, (can you tell I’ve got the ‘been there, done that’ wedding T-shirt?) then why not just get it over and done with … and when you’re the hottest Royal couple of the moment, the pressure to deliver is enormous.
And so we stare down the steamroller that is the 29 April Royal Wedding and we ask, again, why all the fuss? If we were guaranteed that the ceremony would play out like the one mobile operator, T-Mobile, put together, then I’d shamelessly admit that I’d be the one with the biggest box of popcorn, sitting a metre away from the television screen, because seeing Prince Charles shimmy down the aisle is a priceless moment in itself, never mind the duo of the hour!
The internet has gone Royal Wedding mad. Even though there is an official Royal Wedding website and a dedicated YouTube Royal Channel, there are still those out there hoping to make a quick buck off the event. BrewDog, a UK brewer, has even concocted a very special ale to commemorate the occasion – drinking just three bottles of Royal Virility Performance, with the tagline ‘Arise Prince Willy’, is equivalent to taking one Viagra pill (I foresee a lot of babies named Kate and William in nine months’ time).
The official YouTube Channel features a wedding book where anyone can upload a personal message or video, and while I suspect that the prince and his new princess will never have enough time in the world to watch hours of rehashed good wishes from strangers, I do like the fact that they’ve opened up their Charitable Gift Fund to the public – at least one sensible thing will come of the obsessive insanity.
In the past month, Yahoo! noted a 1 523% increase in internet searches related to the Royal Wedding, prompting it to set up its own website dedicated to the wedding, featuring everything from news to videos to photo galleries to a guestbook (because we’re all invited, apparently), oh, and an advert by Spur – clever! Because when predictions are that more than two-billion people will be watching the event, compared to just 750-million who watched Charles and Diana’s wedding in 1981 (how the digital world  has changed the real world!), strategic ad placement will get you everywhere.
Us South Africans can’t scoff at the absurdness of it all – we’re just us guilty of rubbernecking. Howzit MSN launched its Royal Wedding special content on 9 April and recorded 500 000 page views in its first week! Compare this to only 200 000 hits for the month for the cricket page that was put up for the World Cup. Tut tut.
If you are one of the few that haven’t been swept up in the Royal Wedding wave, first of all, well done! Second of all, prepare to be force-fed come 29 April, because that’s all that will be on TV, social media, radio and the internet. NewsTime reports, “The BBC will deploy at least 550 staff on the day, using about 100 cameras in Westminster Abbey and along the procession route to provide a live feed to dozens of countries and footage to many more. About 140 broadcast trucks are expected to set up in Green Park near Buckingham Palace and 48 television studios have been purpose-built nearby in what is thought to be [the] largest outside broadcast ever seen.”
Oh dear.
I’m pretty sure there was something else happening on 29 April. Something with a lot more significance than the wedding of the decade…?
Oh yes, that’s right, 29 April is the shuttle Endeavour’s final mission to the International Space Station. I wonder if there are any news crews available to cover it?

The rise and rise of Zulu

http://blog.coup.co.za/2011/04/the-rise-and-rise-of-zulu/


Higher Education Minister Blade Nzimande kicked up a stink this week when he proposed that all university degrees include an African language as part of their programmes of study. As a condition for graduating, all students would need to learn an African language.
Personally, I think it’s an excellent idea as it champions the cause of minority language rights. The problem, however, is that while it’s great in theory, actually implementing this might prove tricky. Perhaps a better option would be to start with the teaching of additional languages at the primary school level, rather than expect students who have been speaking one or two languages for the past 20-odd years to suddenly pick up an additional language – and be able to speak it coherently by the time their three-year degrees come to an end.
That being said, if given a choice, which language would you choose? I’m going with Zulu.
By no means a minority language, Zulu has been quite prolific in the media space in the past six months, especially the online space. It all started in November last year when Sunday Times launched a Zulu edition – a language spoken by 50% of the South African population and is the mother tongue of 24% of the population, according to the Pan SA Language Board.
In March this year, it was reported that News24 had followed suit, launching a Zulu version of its popular news service, offering the latest in headlines, sport, finance and weather. Just days later, it was reported that Mozilla’s Firefox Web browser (which is already available in North Sotho) had been customised by translators to support Zulu. I’m beginning to see a pattern here…
A recent article by AFP reported that while most South African print media are battling declining circulations and an advertising drought, Zulu-language papers are flourishing, with more titles appearing and sales rising. TakeIsolezwe, for example, which was launched in 2002 and is now South Africa’s third most popular newspaper, according to the Audit Bureau of Circulation. Sales of its daily edition topped 104 000 last year; and at R2.80 a copy, it’s hardly surprising – quality news at an affordable price.
I’m hoping to see some of our minority languages afforded the same recognition at some stage. And if, in so doing, it means including African languages in university modules, then I’m 100% for it.

Vodacom advertising goes ‘viral’

http://blog.coup.co.za/2011/05/vodacom-advertising-goes-viral/


Vodacom is getting a lot of things right lately. I blogged a few weeks ago about how much I enjoyed Vodacom’s re-branding adverts, with my colleague, Kerryn le Cordeur, reporting on how Vodacom set the wheels of the ‘red bandwagon’ in motion, with the likes of Virgin Active and Dulux scrambling for a sliver of the limelight and basking in the glow of the awesomeness that is Vodacom.
I thought the Vodacom hype was simmering down, and then it comes out with this. Vodacom’s new TV advert embraces everything that is good about social media and viral advertising and makes it that much cooler. In the latest offering, Marcus (who looks to be around 11 or 12) takes delivery of his brand new Vodacom phone. He turns the phone’s camera on himself, marches into his bedroom, props the phone up and proceeds to make a video. But this isn’t just any old video. It features more South African celebrities than a bumper issue of Heat magazine. And if his huge brown eyes don’t get you, Marcus with the raucous’ rapping skills certainly will – as will his uncanny ability to make celebrities such as HHP, Loyiso, Freshlyground, Corné and Twakkie, Prime Circle, Tamara Dey, Elvis Blue and Gang of Instrumentals literally crawl out of the cracks of his room and morph from his linen.
The clever word play (“And I get what I want, even got digits for Tanya van Graan; but I stay freshly-grounded and the girls just really, really like it”) and good-sport celebrities dancing around in sleeping bags, singing into desk lamps and zooting around the room on office chairs make this the exact kind of video I like to share with my friends – it’s catchy, has familiar faces and is just so damn clever!
And you know what they say about videos shared by friends – people tend to watch them for three times longer than if they had stumbled across it themselves (read Leigh Andrews’ article on what makes a video go viral).
The ad opens as if it’s a regular YouTube video, zooming in when it has received just fewer than 100 views. At the end of the ad, after Ross from Prime Circle spins Marcus’ chair around and all the featured celebs cram into the screenshot, the camera zooms out again, putting the viewing tally at nearly 28-million.
I suspect Vodacom won’t need to spend too much money airing this ad on TV. I’ve already forced everyone in the office to watch it and a friend of mine on Facebook has declared his intention to adopt Marcus. That is, not if I get to him first.

Re-branding: Vodacom gets it right

http://blog.coup.co.za/2011/04/rebranding-vodacomgetsitright/


For the most part, Vodacom did a damn fine job keeping its new branding under wraps until the official launch on 1 April. Granted, we all pretty much knew that it was going to adopt the colours of its parent company, Vodafone; that it was going to be red; and that it might, too, adopt Vodafone’s logo.
What we weren’t expecting, however, was the sheer brilliance in the execution of the rebranding and the enormous creativity behind it. I was feeling rather unmotivated at the offering on Sunday prime time television last night, there was nothing interesting to watch and I was considering bundling myself off to bed for an early night … until I saw the first Vodacom rebrand ad, and the next, and the next. I was convinced to sit through hours of boring programming in the hopes that, during the ad breaks, I would catch another one that I hadn’t seen yet.
The genius ad campaign saw Vodacom bring together characters of adverts past, including Bankole Omotoso (Yebo Gogo!), Michael de Pina, Trevor Gumbi (“Are you free, or are you dom?”), Daddy Cool and that crazy dancing meerkat, among others. In pairs of two (or alone, if you’re a meerkat), they sit in a blue room with a bucket of red paint and proceed to splash said paint all over the blue wall via rather, erm, creative methods, from catapulting themselves into the wall, to shooting paintballs at it, to falling off scaffolding and accidently splashing the wall, to kicking paint bombs at a mock rugby post. The thirteen-second ads are perfect in length, each featuring different, amusing content, and each with a familiar face that forces you to draw on past Vodacom ads.
Besides the brilliant TV and print ads, Vodacom effectively executed its rebranding strategy on the ground, too. At the press briefing on Friday night, CEO Pieter Uys was looking rather spiffy in his red golf shirt and the new red branding was already visible on the sporting field when the Vodacom Blue Bulls took on the Wellington Hurricanes in a Super 15 match in New Zealand. New Zealand! They even got the branding right in another country! The Bulls won, in case you were wondering…
Compared to Cell C’s re-branding, Vodacom is streets ahead, including the entire Vodacom family in the event, as opposed to employing a random comedian (don’t get me wrong, I love your work, Trevor) as its “brand ambassador”. It somehow made it more real to me.
My husband pointed out that he’d noticed I was partial to short, funny ads that have different content (And no, Outsurance’s Invisible Man does not count), so maybe I’m biased, but hey, if it works, it works.
Nicely played, Vodacom. More Power to You.



The Oxford English Dictionary has gone loco!

http://blog.coup.co.za/2011/04/oxford-dictionary-has-gone-loco/


OMG! Did you hear about the tanorexic gazillionaire who was wearing a mankini over budgie smugglers while having a looky-loo at the bajillion retweets on Twitter? Fnarr fnarr! At the same time, he was eating a sammie, muttering “nom nom”. TMI for you?
It’s a sad day for grammarians when the Oxford English Dictionary adds words that usually only form part of a teenager’s vocabulary to its official lexicon. It’s an even worse day when it accepts SMS acronyms as proper words. Yes, ladies and gentlemen, it is now acceptable to use LOL and OMG in every-day writing.
While we at COUP are thrilled at the addition of words such as ‘bloggable’ and ‘retweet’, we cry quietly at the thought of SMS-speak tainting our copy.
Funnily enough, I recently wrote a university assignment on whether language practitioners felt that the enforcement of correct language usage was good or bad. One of the focus areas was the use of SMS-speak in areas other than the cellphone. Not surprisingly, just about all the respondents vehemently opposed its use – some believe it doesn’t even belong in SMSes. COUP Content Editor, Marie Straub, said, “SMS speak is a pet hate of mine. I even avoid it when SMSing. I don’t think it is acceptable outside of SMSing. Also, with a vast number of young people using SMS- and internet-speak in their online communications (which are increasing all the time), their grammar is suffering, with spelling following fast behind.” Kerryn le Cordeur, Deputy Editor of Media Update, believes SMS-speak “dumbs down” communication; while Bronwyn Raitt, a teacher, believes that SMS-speak is making people lazy and that it is a disgrace to the English language. Another concern raised by language practitioner Kate Wright is that the addition of ‘OMG’ to the Dictionary somehow made blasphemy acceptable, too.
I tend to agree with all of the above.
On the other hand, should we not be happy that our wonderful language is changing with the times and is accommodating new terms and phrases? Being a language practitioner myself, I might come across as biased when I say that the addition of new words thrills me – provided they are useful! Andragogy, avoision, calligram, recessionista (look them up) – all new words added to the Dictionary and all excellent! However, when it comes to boo-yah and woot, I feel the need to assume the foetal position and rock slowly from side-to-side.
What are your thoughts? A boon for the English language or the beginning of the end of a literate society?

A movie-type trailer for a book? I’d rather judge it by its cover…

http://blog.coup.co.za/2011/03/booktrailer/


I’m the first to admit that I never read the entire blurb of any book or DVD. My judgement starts with the cover (shallow, I know), after which I’ll flip the book/DVD in question over and skim over the blurb, looking for words that jump out, like ‘psychopath’, ‘controversy’, and ‘scandal’.
So when I heard that there was a movie-like trailer punting Mike Nicol’s new book, Black Heart, I got a little giddy – my laziness had reached a new level; or rather, technology had leveraged my laziness to a new level, as seems to be occurring more and more these days.
I have to admit, though, I was slightly disappointed. The trailer wasn’t very forthcoming with clues as to what the story is about, other than revenge. Something somebody did in the past was coming back to haunt said person as another person wants revenge. Not vague at all. The trailer also tells us that Black Heart is the third book in Nicol’s Revenge Trilogy. Thanks for that, but for someone who has never read a Nicol novel; this is not much use to me. Right now there are a million possibilities running through my mind as to what the revenge centres on. A love triangle? A business deal gone awry? A beauty queen bitter that an opponent sabotaged the dress she was meant to wear in the Evening Gown walk?
I tracked down the actual blurb and it goes something like this: Sheemina has a vendetta against security operative, Mace, who is in a spot of trouble himself, as his partner has been shot and a foreigner under their protection has been kidnapped. “In the final part of Mike Nicol’s Revenge Trilogy the hidden hand of Sheemina February is everywhere.  Her finger tightening on the trigger.”
I was nowhere close, apparently.
My modus operandi is as follows – pick up eye-catching book (and yes, I would’ve picked up Black Heart, based on its cover), take note of words that ‘pop’, open book on random page and read a few sentences to get a feel for the writer’s style, then either put the book back on the shelf or tuck it under my arm and mosey on to the tills. This experience was obviously missing in trailer format and that, for me, is a big deciding factor with regards to whether I want to read a book or not.
That being said, I wouldn’t discount the idea of trailers-for-books completely. With better execution, it could definitely work. Perhaps the characters in the trailer could actually say something as this could convey a sense of the writer’s style to a degree. Also, the trailer needs context. As mentioned above, I had no idea what the book was about based solely on watching the trailer and had to hunt down the blurb for more information.
Or maybe I just put way too much thought into the whole process. What do you think of trailers for books?

Friday, January 14, 2011

Put down your sandwich...

I've joined a gym.

Don't say I didn't warn you before you guffawed with a mouth full of food. I'll wait while you dislodge the morsel from your throat...

All better? Good.

Signing my unhealthy life away on the dotted line at the bottom of the gym contract was not something I imagined myself doing. Ever. Sure, I've been a gym member before, but that was back in the day when daddy was paying and nobody really cared if I went or not.

But now I have no choice. If I don't gym at least 10 times a month, I have to pay the full membership fee, which borders on, *gulp*, R500 a month. However, the more I gym, the less I pay - you gotta love these medical aid incentive programmes - talk about motivation!

And even though I inked the deal on 1 January, this was by no means a New Year's resolution - who makes those any more, anyway?

I have to say it though, the sceptic in me has been delivered a hearty kick up the arse by the gym bunny I never knew lived inside me. I'm actually enjoying it and the novelty hasn't warn off yet - two weeks in! This is some kind of record, I'm sure! Even though it hurts like hell, I'm loving my stiff thighs and the extra effort it takes to lift the tomato sauce bottle ever since those push-ups two days ago. It also helps having a fitness freak for a sister and a three-year-old nephew that can't get enough of the kids' club.

Although I don't want to speak too soon and jinx my positivity, I think I'm going to stick this one out. Ask me again in six months though, I might just be swiping my gym card to buy a smoothie from the in-gym Kauai and then walking straight out again with a sheepish, guilt-ridden face. After all, the medical aid just counts how often the card is swiped, not how long you spent in the gym...

Monday, November 22, 2010

The gods are telling me something

I either need to change my working hours or change my job. My mother thinks I should just change the route I take to work, but where's the fun in that?

Why the drastic steps? Well, this morning, on my way to the grindstone at the ridiculous hour of 05:15, I see flashing lights from a police car in the distance. Thinking nothing of it, I continue on my not-so-merry Monday way. This is South Africa after all, flashing police lights are as common as red buses in London.

The vehicle to which said flashing lights belong to, without warning, ramps up the centre island and spews out two officers wielding menacing firearms and just as menacing facial expressions. Expressions that tell me I should probably stop my car in the middle of a main road (so what if it's 05:15 and there's no traffic!) to let them cross. At least one cop said thank you ... And that's when the guns were in the air, shouts of "Get down!" filled the otherwise peaceful morning and two rather bewildered blokes quietly surrendered as they stared down the barrel of an AK47. I would, too.

Praying that the guys on the barrel-end of the gun wouldn't draw their own weapons, rendering me a victim of collateral damage, I eased my car around the officer and continued on my way. Ah, just another day in sunny SA.

So why the need to change my route, you ask?

See this is not the first time I've been an almost-victim of crime on my way to work. I was once nearly involved in a smash-and-grab and have also been pushed off the road by a government vehicle.

I think the gods are trying to tell me something. Like, why, oh why, are you up at stupid 'o clock every morning, you stupid woman?!

Saturday, July 10, 2010

The kinds of kicks up the arse I need...

My dear friend Kate recently lambasted me for not updating my blog often enough. She usually gives me a roasting at least once a month. I appreciate these tellings-off, because if it weren't for the constant reminding, I would probably forget about the blog altogether. Plus ... it's nice to know that someone is actually reading it! :-)

So ... I know I've said this before, but I will try be better at this blog-keeping thing.

Now, if only I had something to write about...

Thursday, January 21, 2010

How to make yourself smarter, for dummies

I have always admired my husband for being a hive of what I call "useless information". He always seems to know something about everything, from the history of most countries, to the inner workings of computers - topics that the average person (read: me) would have to research or seek help on.

And this makes me jealous.

I want to know useless information! I want to appear to be the smart one in conversations, rather than the one making silent mental notes to read up on Abraham Lincoln upon hearing his name to find out just what made him so special.

And so I have made a New Year's resolution. I have decided to research at least two topics of interest a week in an attempt to broaden my general knowledge base and give me the upper hand in intelligent conversations.

I'm starting with Abe Lincoln (who apparently detested being called "Abe"). I always knew that he was an American president; what I did not know is that he was the first American president to be assassinated and was responsible for the abolishment of slavery in the States. Mmmm ... so that's what made him famous!

I have a feeling I'm going to stick this resolution out. If all goes according to plan, I would have researched 98 topics by the end of the year (bearing in mind that I've already missed out on three weeks). Ask me this time next year what my favourite website is and I imagine it will be Wikipedia, and not Facebook!

Next research topic: the Berlin Wall!

Friday, January 15, 2010

If there was ever a time to bite your tongue...

I receive a daily newsletter from back home, purely because I want to keep up with the goings on in my home country. It's usually pretty standard: crime, car accidents, corrupt officials, police abuse, electricity prices, etc.

However, this morning's newsletter left me absolutely gob-smacked. Under the "most read" section was an article on a school in Port Elizabeth that was held up by thugs, who made off with a substantial amount of cash - the day's takings in school fees.

For starters, I want to know why this story was in the "most read" section, rather than the "news you should know" or "top stories" sections? Has South Africa become that much accustomed to violent crime that incidents of terrorists waltzing into schools with loaded guns are only afforded a mere mention?

This is not the source of my shock, however. A very smart police captain was quoted as saying, "I can't divulge the amount of money because criminals will now know they can make easy money from schools." Who says that?! Well done, Captain Rheeder, you didn't need to divulge the amount, you just single-handedly made every school in the country vulnerable to attack. You should be downplaying the amount or, better yet, not even mentioning the money!

Is it not enough that thugs have taken away our children's right to play in parks and streets without fear?

Now, thanks to poorly-chosen words, criminals have education by the throat also. Way to go, Captain.


Thursday, January 14, 2010

I suck at this

I have come to the realisation that I am terrible at keeping a blog. My mind is full of topics to write about, but when I actually sit down to write about them, they suddenly sound silly. Abraham Lincoln was wise when he said, "Tis better to be silent and to be thought a fool, than to speak and remove all doubt."

So, I thought of turning my blog into a sort of online diary, but it would be selfish exposing readers to my mindless diatribes about trying to find Wellies that actually fit and look cool at the same time, or about my attempts to lose weight and get fit ... using the Wii.

Then again, my ramblings might be amusing to some of you, so I guess I'll never know unless I try. Behold, dear readers, part one of my blog-turned-diary. I expect comments. Lots of them. Good and bad.

I am sad to report that my hopes for studying further in the UK have been dashed. The procrastinatory (yes, I know that's not a word) side of my personality saw to it that I left it too late to book the photography course I was so keen on and all the spaces were taken up. Strike one.

Not to worry, I have the Indesign course to fall back on, which is more important and relevant to my career aspirations anyway. This time I made sure I called well in advance to secure my seat. "I'm sorry," said the lady on the other end of the line, "but that course has been cancelled due to a lack of interest." Great. I'm being punished for being lax in booking the photography course. Strike two.

Hmmmm....well, there's always the web design course. Not my first choice, but something that will still look good on my CV, right? Wrong. Turns out that this course is out of my price range so that idea was shelved. Strike three and you're out.

I wonder if future employers will hold it against me that I will not have worked in my field for nine months by the time I get home and start looking again?