 | wipneus on Thinking thougts |
 | aventer on Thinking thougts |
 | Adrie on Thinking thougts |
| aventer on Thinking thougts |
 | Johan Swarts on Thinking thougts |
That is the question we are often tuagth to ask when facing the problem of not knowing wether we are wrong or right. God would do the right thing, right?
But today I would like to ask a different question…
What would you do if you were God?
There’s a lot of things one can do when one holds the awesome power of God. Take Bruce Almighty for example. It’s a stupid movie put it’s something I can use.
So please help me by answering the following question: What would you do if you were God for a day?
Writing down your thoughts is essential in some strange way. I have a little book. Just a common, ordinary, everyday type of book which I write in. My thoughts, feelings, things I’ve learned, almost anything. Even a poem.
I would like to challenge you to keep a similar book. It doesn’t have to be an essay you write each day. It can be one word only, maybe a sentence, a proverb, something philosophical. Let your mind sore on wings of creativeness.
I will be posting my books at the end of the exams. I mostly write in the mornings before I start to write. Something motivational always lifts my spirits.
Your challenge is to keep this book for a week, and see what you come up with. Happy thinking 
En ja ek gaan ook nou mense tag, bloot net omdat ek kan. *mwahahaha*
Right, ek tag vir Pikkie, Tannie Roer, Adrietjie en vir Johan.
Wys die mense bietjie wat in julle koppe aangaan.
Storie van my hart
Ek was altyd heel,
altyd vriendlik, altyd myself
toe kom hy en verander my
Ek was geskend
ek was groter, meer volwasse
toe kom hy
Ek was geskeur
my wêreld was inmekaar gedonder
toe kom jy ek wonder..
Ek is gebroke, verlate, alleen
hoe kon ek ooit dink:
jy was die een…
Sy was maar 12 toe sy besef het haar ouers se huwelik gaan nie nog langer hou nie. In haar afgesonderheid, het sy haarself geleer om haar eie probleme op te los. Sy was ‘n alleenloper. Sy w
as Sheldean Cloete.
Mens het haar net geken van sien. Haar lippe was totaal en al geslote by enige geselsery. Selfs as mens net bedagsaam groet het sy grond toe gestaar. Sy was donker, seergemaak en alleen. Haar oë was ‘n diep, modderbruin, haar hare so swart soos die nag. Haar lippe altyd droog, opsoek na ‘n druppeltjie nattigheid. As jy mooi oplet kon jy sien dat sy al baie haar lip stukkend gebyt het. Sy was nie ‘n verwaarloosde of ‘n afgeskeepte mens nie. Sy was beeldskoon, maar sy was altyd eenkant in die walms van haar eie drome.
Haar moeder was ‘n opregte dame. Jy kan dit sien aan die manier hoe Sheldean haar lang bene beweeg. Haar lyf was dun, nie ongesond of anoreksies nie, net dun. Sy is nie stadsmens nie. Haar bewegings is gevul met senuweeagtigheid, dog baie elegant. Die geluid van haar hakskoene verklap haar huidige posisie. Woonstelblok nommer 3 is waar sy haar tuiste bevind. Nommer 167 is hare.
Die woonstel is dieselfde donker as haar hare. Koffiekoppies staan gepak op die kombuistafel, die lug ruik na geroosterde koffiebone. Oral in die vertrek is geraamde sketse en foto’s. Alles in swart en wit. Die foto’s en sketse blyk een tema te skep. Almal was van hande, verkieslik sterk, manlike hande. Daar is net een wat uitstaan. Een van ‘n klein bebloede dogtertjie. Die hele skets is swart en wit, die bloed is egter gekleur, nie rooi nie, maar blou. Sheldean staar vir ‘n oomblik na haar oudste skepping. Haar gedagtes vlug na daardie dag.
Sy was maar net 12 op daardie stadium. Sy het pas tuisgekom met ‘n eerste plek vir haar gesinsportret wat sy in die kunstefees ingeskryf het. Al glansend het sy die huis binnegestap met die hoop dat Mamma en Pappa nie vanaand sal baklei nie. Dis stil. Sy roep na haar moeder. Sy roep weer. Sonder antwoord dra haar voetjies haar kombuis toe. Haar portret val op die grond. Sy uiter ‘n gil.
Sy roep na haar moeder. Sy roep weer met stortende trane in haar oë en haar gemoed, maar haar Mamma bly le in haar bloedpoel. Haar pa is nerens te sien nie. Sheldean Cloete gaan lê met haar kop op haar ma se bebloede bors. Dis stil. Die polisie het kort daarna by die huis opgedaag, haar van haar Mamma af weggevat. Heeltemal weggevat.
Sy was alleen. In haar afgesonderheid het sy geleer om haar eie probleme op te los. Sy was Sheldean Cloete.
Here is the Mpumalanga trails examination table/schedule
This is my second last one I’ll ever receive *sigh*
I’m going to frame my last one, hehe 
Here it starts….
29 August - IT (practical)
1 September - English (paper1)
2 September - Maths (paper1)
3 September - Afrikaans (paper1)
5 September - IT (theory) 
8 September - English (paper2)
9 September - Maths (paper2) AND Afrikaans(paper2)
11 September - Accounting 
18 September - English (paper3) 
19 September - Biology (paper1) 
22 September - Biology (paper2) :mrgreen: AND Afrikaans(paper3)
23 September - Maths (paper3)
25 September - LO!!!!
Drrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrum rrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrol pleeeeeeease…..
The 26th brings………
I’m going to be a little quiet the following three weeks.
Jup it’s exam time again
Love you all and stay happy
God Bless!
Every Friday we have choir practice in the afternoon after school.
Last night on the way back, we stopped for pizza. After settling down everyone together we started to enjoy our respective cheese filled pizzas. But then something caught my eye, one of my fellow choir members (a boy) bowed his head and he prayed for his meal.
Never in my life have I quite witnessed something so beautiful. So silent in his own world with God. Most of the time, I think, we see prayer as an absolute necessity. If there is something I learned yesterday, it is that prayer is a most beautiful thing.
Don’t know when but I wrote this…it’s out of the archives and again I apologize for the Afrikaans
Ons hoort saam
Dis my land, jou land, ons land
die land van son
van vrede, vryheid, verdriet…
van lag baljaar en haat
Ons skone land, is so te sê,
godloos verlaat
Stoei om mag
ras teen ras
geslag teen geslag
waar is die genade?
waar is die gesag
van Afrika leiers, boeremagte?
Is dit lig of donker?
Dag gaan om in nag,
nag verander in dag.
Albei ewe nodig, ewe belangrik
Daar heers oorlog om vryheid,
een wat reeds geveg en oorwin is.
Die kind is steeds nie dood nie…
Ook nie in Suid-Afrika nie
Dis my land, jou land, ons land
die land van son en kleur
diversiteit skep eenheid
‘n skoneryke geur
Johann Weber and Adrie are related to my hometown and also to my school…they’re much older than I am but it still proves that we live in an extremely small world…
Adrie blogs in Afrikaans about extra-ordinary, ordinary and just plain fun stuff. It’s good reading material
Johann Weber’s topics covers more politics but it’s also a very interesting read…
Ironically…both these people got two different subjects from the same person….amazing isn’t it
Go on…take a peek 
This is a poem I wrote before my mom went for laser therapy. Excuse the Afrikaans.
vergeet my nooit…
ek het jou nodig
nou meer as ooit
asseblief…
vergeet my nooit
moenie my alleen los nie
hou my altyd naby
dis moeilik om sterk te wees
as jy so swak is
dis moeilik om ‘n straight face te hê
as jy soos ‘n swak kind op die bed lê
dis hartverskeurend as jy begin huil
my hele wese sak in mekaar
ek’s so gewoont om jou altyd daar te hê
maar nou verloor ek jou
vir ses weke is jy ver weg van my
ses weke…
ses
kan jy nie bly nie
moet jy rerig gaan
noem net die prys
ek sal dit met ‘n smile betaal
ek het jou nodig
nou meer as ooit
liewe Mamma
vergeet my nooit…
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Pikkie Adrie Tannie Roer Johann Weber
