Well.
i must say thank you to all of you that sent me frantic messages enquiring about my whereabouts these last few (12) weeks, and your concerns. Of course you know im talking shit. hehe. Coz actaully none of you did. But thats ok. I pay a therapist to deal with that side of me.
In real life though, the last 12 weeks have been insane. it's been a bit cray cray. lets see. boyfriend and i break up. 2 weeks later i get held up at gun point in my flat and robbed (uurgh!) two weeks after that, i get fired.
yes. fired from my job of 4 years.
And i'm like - WTF? nou hoekom? (which means "now, why?") for non Saffas.
very mad. very busy. very tiring, BUT - i like got a job and bought a sexy new scooter and threw away the glasses, got contacts lenses and bought jeans that actually fit me for a change and dont make me look like a lesbian from the Bluff. so i was like, Life, you silly twat. you throw me lemmons? im not going to waste my time making lemonade when i can go buy some myself. instead, i will throw these lemons right back at you, bitch.
Tuesday, August 2, 2011
Wednesday, June 8, 2011
today
Today I looked at photographs that used to make me happy,
Then one day - they started to make me sad.
They would make me smile then make me cry.
Today – I looked at them, and I smiled.
Today – I remembered.
Today – I laughed until little laugh tears came out my eyes.
No one can take away – can not delete memories.
I would not want that to happen.
For then I would surely cry!
Instead they are making me laugh –
Good – happy – fun memories.
They don’t make me sad anymore.
I just remember – and I’m glad it happened.
And I miss you, and I love you –
And I know that this is just the way it has to be.
Then one day - they started to make me sad.
They would make me smile then make me cry.
Today – I looked at them, and I smiled.
Today – I remembered.
Today – I laughed until little laugh tears came out my eyes.
No one can take away – can not delete memories.
I would not want that to happen.
For then I would surely cry!
Instead they are making me laugh –
Good – happy – fun memories.
They don’t make me sad anymore.
I just remember – and I’m glad it happened.
And I miss you, and I love you –
And I know that this is just the way it has to be.
Sunday, June 5, 2011
i am legend
It is generally known amongst those of you who know (very clever Wozzie) that I like my early mornings. My day starts between 04:30 am and 05:30 am depending on how I’ve slept the night before.
People always want to know why I wake up so early. And the answer is quite simple. This is me time, when I’m left alone to my thoughts and the day - as it begins. My morning meditations are not that spiritual, I don’t bang a gong or hum a hum – I simply tell myself to STOP – and enjoy a new beginning. The sun, wiping the sleep out his eyes, again, depending on his mood, will either rush out of bed in a blaze of glory, or just take his time and slowly crawl on out, sometimes he makes his bed, sometimes he does not, leaving pillows of clouds lying around.
It is also a time when the world is usually at its nicest… asleep. A time when the birds, who are usually drowned out by the droning greyness of everyday, lift their voices to the sky and welcome in a new morning, splashed with oranges and yellows.
It’s a time I’m left to the sound of my own foot steps on a tar road, pushing through sweat and aching muscles. The beating of my heart and the stinging in my eyes reminding me I’m still alive. Breathing in a cooler, fresher air. This is the time I can pretend that the earth is more than just mud and my toes are more than tools of balance. It is unforgiving and all encompassing to hold the day for exactly what it is… completely unplanned and unaccounted for.
This is when I get to take a step back from who I am everyday. This is when I remind myself to stand on my own two feet! This is when I remember, I’m running on my own two feet!
I am a bird and I’m singing again, I am free. And here, where no one can see me, I fly!
This is the time I read. Where I find time to write. When ideas rush in (where angels fear to tread? Sometimes I fear to tread there!) Where I can sit in bed and play the guitar. Where my words are free and it does not matter what I say or what I sing. Who I think and what I am.
This is where I once would wrap, so carefully, each fear, insecurity and word that I held onto in fear of being unheard, unnoticed - uninteresting, in layer upon layer of bubble wrap.
These mornings have become a sanctuary.
I am no longer afraid of my words.
I drape them in the serenity of my bedroom. String them into silly rhythms and nonsical rhymes. I swim with them and laugh with them and watch them float off in big blue bubbles. I watch them chase playfully after butterflies. I day dream and I make wishes.
I ask the words, to stay with me for the day. I ask them to help me know when to say what needs to be said, take a step back and remain silent where I need to just listen. Let me rub out lines that should not be there. Let my words not be walls around me, but rather a door to open. A story to read.
Today I mark another day off my calendar, but not off my life. I wish to live everyday as a living statement of who I am.
I do not want to miss a thing.
I am superman, bouncing from one couch to another on a movie set, that looks remarkably like my living room and I laugh at myself in the mirror, flying past in my bright red cape. Wooooooosh!!
I am super-gardener, tending to the crops growing on the windowsills in my apartment.
I am super-businessman, getting ready to jet off to LA. Holding board meetings with the dishes piling in the sink.
I am a super- rock-star on centre stage - in my bathroom. The world is my oyster. And the soap gives me a standing ovation.
I am legend
People always want to know why I wake up so early. And the answer is quite simple. This is me time, when I’m left alone to my thoughts and the day - as it begins. My morning meditations are not that spiritual, I don’t bang a gong or hum a hum – I simply tell myself to STOP – and enjoy a new beginning. The sun, wiping the sleep out his eyes, again, depending on his mood, will either rush out of bed in a blaze of glory, or just take his time and slowly crawl on out, sometimes he makes his bed, sometimes he does not, leaving pillows of clouds lying around.
It is also a time when the world is usually at its nicest… asleep. A time when the birds, who are usually drowned out by the droning greyness of everyday, lift their voices to the sky and welcome in a new morning, splashed with oranges and yellows.
It’s a time I’m left to the sound of my own foot steps on a tar road, pushing through sweat and aching muscles. The beating of my heart and the stinging in my eyes reminding me I’m still alive. Breathing in a cooler, fresher air. This is the time I can pretend that the earth is more than just mud and my toes are more than tools of balance. It is unforgiving and all encompassing to hold the day for exactly what it is… completely unplanned and unaccounted for.
This is when I get to take a step back from who I am everyday. This is when I remind myself to stand on my own two feet! This is when I remember, I’m running on my own two feet!
I am a bird and I’m singing again, I am free. And here, where no one can see me, I fly!
This is the time I read. Where I find time to write. When ideas rush in (where angels fear to tread? Sometimes I fear to tread there!) Where I can sit in bed and play the guitar. Where my words are free and it does not matter what I say or what I sing. Who I think and what I am.
This is where I once would wrap, so carefully, each fear, insecurity and word that I held onto in fear of being unheard, unnoticed - uninteresting, in layer upon layer of bubble wrap.
These mornings have become a sanctuary.
I am no longer afraid of my words.
I drape them in the serenity of my bedroom. String them into silly rhythms and nonsical rhymes. I swim with them and laugh with them and watch them float off in big blue bubbles. I watch them chase playfully after butterflies. I day dream and I make wishes.
I ask the words, to stay with me for the day. I ask them to help me know when to say what needs to be said, take a step back and remain silent where I need to just listen. Let me rub out lines that should not be there. Let my words not be walls around me, but rather a door to open. A story to read.
Today I mark another day off my calendar, but not off my life. I wish to live everyday as a living statement of who I am.
I do not want to miss a thing.
I am superman, bouncing from one couch to another on a movie set, that looks remarkably like my living room and I laugh at myself in the mirror, flying past in my bright red cape. Wooooooosh!!
I am super-gardener, tending to the crops growing on the windowsills in my apartment.
I am super-businessman, getting ready to jet off to LA. Holding board meetings with the dishes piling in the sink.
I am a super- rock-star on centre stage - in my bathroom. The world is my oyster. And the soap gives me a standing ovation.
I am legend
Thursday, May 26, 2011
how old are you really?
ok, so i was reading this random nonsense on a news site. i'm not so sure how and why its meant to work or what all it means, but in the name of random i decided to post it. according to this "test" my "body age" is 32. that's 2 years than i am.
"London - You don’t need to wait for the £400 (about R4 500) telomere test - just take our eight-point quiz to work out how well your body is ageing.
To do the calculation, start with your actual age now and add or subtract years for every “yes” answer.
If you score “younger” than your real age, that means your telomeres are in good shape for a long and healthy life.
1: Do you exercise for at least 45 minutes three or more times a week? Subtract five years.
2: Do you smoke? Add ten.
3: Do you drink four or more units of alcohol (two glasses) a day. Add seven.
4: Do you sleep for between seven and nine hours most nights? Subtract five.
5: Does your waist measure less than 91cm (male) or less than 81cm (female)? Subtract five.
6: Do you take a daily supplement of 3,000mg or more of omega 3 fish oil? Subtract five.
7: Generally speaking, are you happy? Subtract seven.
8: Do you eat fried foods more than twice a week? Add three. - Daily Mail"
"London - You don’t need to wait for the £400 (about R4 500) telomere test - just take our eight-point quiz to work out how well your body is ageing.
To do the calculation, start with your actual age now and add or subtract years for every “yes” answer.
If you score “younger” than your real age, that means your telomeres are in good shape for a long and healthy life.
1: Do you exercise for at least 45 minutes three or more times a week? Subtract five years.
2: Do you smoke? Add ten.
3: Do you drink four or more units of alcohol (two glasses) a day. Add seven.
4: Do you sleep for between seven and nine hours most nights? Subtract five.
5: Does your waist measure less than 91cm (male) or less than 81cm (female)? Subtract five.
6: Do you take a daily supplement of 3,000mg or more of omega 3 fish oil? Subtract five.
7: Generally speaking, are you happy? Subtract seven.
8: Do you eat fried foods more than twice a week? Add three. - Daily Mail"
Monday, May 9, 2011
ROAD TO RECOVERY
I have been so quiet on blogs of late. Of course there are reasons for it all. I dont want to go too much into it, but here I'm posting a poem written by a lady I know. I think she is an awesome writer and beautiful person and this poem really brings it all together.
For the heartbroken kids out there, it will get better.
ROAD TO RECOVERY
The vehicle is not destroyed, sweet child,
your view has simply been distorted;
it is a small crack,
like a hairline in the windshield glass.
Drive slowly,
stop often to rest and look around you.
Breathe, refuel.
The journey will take its own twists,
make yourself supple for the winding road.
If you get lost I will come for you,
no matter the height of the moon,
nor the nearness of morning.
I promise you this.
©Cindy Taylor 2008
For the heartbroken kids out there, it will get better.
ROAD TO RECOVERY
The vehicle is not destroyed, sweet child,
your view has simply been distorted;
it is a small crack,
like a hairline in the windshield glass.
Drive slowly,
stop often to rest and look around you.
Breathe, refuel.
The journey will take its own twists,
make yourself supple for the winding road.
If you get lost I will come for you,
no matter the height of the moon,
nor the nearness of morning.
I promise you this.
©Cindy Taylor 2008
Monday, April 11, 2011
a few pictures
I really could not have been arsed to try get these photos in to any sort of order. They are just random pictures I took on my cell phone over the weekend. And what an awesome weekend it was. Debauchery on Friday evening. Friends, fund and sun on Saturday and ended the weekend off with a comedy show at the Catalina Theater. Good times I tell you… good times.
And now, it’s back to the grindstone as to say… happy Monday everybuddy.
And now, it’s back to the grindstone as to say… happy Monday everybuddy.
Friday, April 8, 2011
Don’t let me fall.
I sit here on this cold, dark and rainy morning barely hanging on for dear life.
Satan manifested himself last night. In the form of merlot.
3 bottles to be exact.
And although I’m usually quite strong and handle hangovers well, this can not even be called a hangover. Fallen RIGHT over is how I’m feeling right now.
If there is any justice in this world, the work day will swallow up huge chunks of itself and release me kindly back to the comfort of my oversized lounge suit where I want to curl up under a blanket and not have to move until at least 11:30 am tomorrow morning.
This is however all my own fault and so do not expect any sympathy from you lot.
It sure would be nice though :)
Thursday, April 7, 2011
perfect picture
Just recieved this picture and almost died from laughter... have a little pun wont you?
This is exactly what I would like to say to about 98% of the people I work with today.
hehe.
This is exactly what I would like to say to about 98% of the people I work with today.
hehe.
thursday shmursday
Urgh.
Moan.
Groan.
Sob.
Weep.
Grr.
Bite.
Gnashing of teeth.
Bawl.
Crawl.
Bash my head in on desk.
Ja.
Another day in the office…
Ja.
Baaa!
SCREAM!
BUT - in 20minutes time I'm leaving the office. And i will get over myself. My irritation. My frustration.
AND THEN - I get to see my friend :) Who I've not seen in tooooo long. Us busy people who work too much...
I foresee an evening of debauchery – much wine, the occasional joint and pizza!
Yes. The day is starting looking better already.
Moan.
Groan.
Sob.
Weep.
Grr.
Bite.
Gnashing of teeth.
Bawl.
Crawl.
Bash my head in on desk.
Ja.
Another day in the office…
Ja.
Baaa!
SCREAM!
BUT - in 20minutes time I'm leaving the office. And i will get over myself. My irritation. My frustration.
AND THEN - I get to see my friend :) Who I've not seen in tooooo long. Us busy people who work too much...
I foresee an evening of debauchery – much wine, the occasional joint and pizza!
Yes. The day is starting looking better already.
Tuesday, April 5, 2011
of peas
I just had a nice chat with my brother, we took a little trip down memory lane. He reminded me of something that happened when we lived with our grandparents for a little while. When he was five years old, my brother ran away from home because we were having peas. My gran put the plate down in front of him and David slammed his fists on the table.
"That's it! I have had it!" he muttered.He stomped over to the door, pulled on his shoes and left.
My gran and I watched him from the lounge window of the house as he set out across the yard between the house and the road, where there was a bus stop, his presumed destination.It had been raining for a few days so David only got a few meters away before his shoes were covered in mud and he started getting tired.
I remember seeing him fall and he did his best to hold his long pants up to keep it dry and tried to pull out of the sucking mud, but only succeeded in removing one of his feet from its shoe. He stood there for a moment, holding his leg up, teetering on it, aimlessly flailing his blue-socked foot in mid-air.My gran and I were in hysterics, and David must have sensed us watching because he looked over his shoulder at us. That caused him to lose his balance and he slammed his shoeless foot down into the mud. Then he pulled his other foot out of its shoe and repeated the previous teetering, dangling, flailing motions.
My gran looked at me, "We shouldn't be laugh....oooh ha ha ha ha ha."I couldn't answer because I was rolling on the floor in the joy that only an older brother could experience in this moment. When I got up and looked again, David was knee-deep with both legs, still trying to hold his pants up. And he started to cry. And then it started to rain. Hard.
My gran grabbed an umbrella and sloshed out to get him. I could hear David's wailing get louder as she carried him back to the house, the way an ambulance siren gets louder as it comes down the street towards you. Of course, I took every opportunity to mock him and make it worse.
The next day, my grandfather took him into the yard with a spade and made him dig up his shoes. Then he made sure my gran served us peas again.
"That's it! I have had it!" he muttered.He stomped over to the door, pulled on his shoes and left.
My gran and I watched him from the lounge window of the house as he set out across the yard between the house and the road, where there was a bus stop, his presumed destination.It had been raining for a few days so David only got a few meters away before his shoes were covered in mud and he started getting tired.
I remember seeing him fall and he did his best to hold his long pants up to keep it dry and tried to pull out of the sucking mud, but only succeeded in removing one of his feet from its shoe. He stood there for a moment, holding his leg up, teetering on it, aimlessly flailing his blue-socked foot in mid-air.My gran and I were in hysterics, and David must have sensed us watching because he looked over his shoulder at us. That caused him to lose his balance and he slammed his shoeless foot down into the mud. Then he pulled his other foot out of its shoe and repeated the previous teetering, dangling, flailing motions.
My gran looked at me, "We shouldn't be laugh....oooh ha ha ha ha ha."I couldn't answer because I was rolling on the floor in the joy that only an older brother could experience in this moment. When I got up and looked again, David was knee-deep with both legs, still trying to hold his pants up. And he started to cry. And then it started to rain. Hard.
My gran grabbed an umbrella and sloshed out to get him. I could hear David's wailing get louder as she carried him back to the house, the way an ambulance siren gets louder as it comes down the street towards you. Of course, I took every opportunity to mock him and make it worse.
The next day, my grandfather took him into the yard with a spade and made him dig up his shoes. Then he made sure my gran served us peas again.
Friday, April 1, 2011
Thursday, March 31, 2011
smiley face
I love quite time.
In fact, I crave it. I need moments, minutes, hours – sometimes days where I can just be alone. Where the only sound I hear is that of the wind rustling in the leaves of the trees outside my bedroom window. Or just the sound of me walking from the living room to the kitchen and opening the fridge to get some cold water.
I love it.
There have been times I’ve given my boyfriend money and said “goodbye – have fun. Treat yourself to lunch or go have a drink at the pub, but just stay away for 2 hours or so. ok, thank you. love you”
Then there are my walks. These are my favorite. Just me, myself and I – the trees on the side of the road, the cars driving past – the little houses, the big houses. The parks. The shops, the ocean.
I really do try find the beauty, the peace, the humor in all I see.
Last week on one such walk I came across this random smiling face painted over a drain hole covering…
It made me smile, and maybe it will make you too.
In fact, I crave it. I need moments, minutes, hours – sometimes days where I can just be alone. Where the only sound I hear is that of the wind rustling in the leaves of the trees outside my bedroom window. Or just the sound of me walking from the living room to the kitchen and opening the fridge to get some cold water.
I love it.
There have been times I’ve given my boyfriend money and said “goodbye – have fun. Treat yourself to lunch or go have a drink at the pub, but just stay away for 2 hours or so. ok, thank you. love you”
Then there are my walks. These are my favorite. Just me, myself and I – the trees on the side of the road, the cars driving past – the little houses, the big houses. The parks. The shops, the ocean.
I really do try find the beauty, the peace, the humor in all I see.
Last week on one such walk I came across this random smiling face painted over a drain hole covering…
It made me smile, and maybe it will make you too.
Wednesday, March 30, 2011
on the road again
Once upon a time I was short and fat.
Then I started running and found that not only did I love it, but I also became thin. Like, I lost 18kg or so… that’s a lot of man to lose you know.
Then I got a boyfriend. And two years later I’m lazy and don’t run. Still short, and getting fat all over again . eish.
THEN – I was asked if I would run in a race. Our company was taking part in a relay called “Mudman” and they needed a runner for the team. So I agreed to run.
Out of – I don’t know, a lot of teams, we placed fourth, and my time in the race was surprisingly good. I was quite chuffed, and now, I’m all motivated to run again. my best friend has accused me of turning into a lesbian. Bless.
Anyway. that’s my story. As boringly brilliant as it is I really must get back to work. but here is a nice picture of my leg with my race number, and then a picture of yachts at Wilson’s Wharf, which is one of my face places to go and chill…
Bye bye.
Then I started running and found that not only did I love it, but I also became thin. Like, I lost 18kg or so… that’s a lot of man to lose you know.
Then I got a boyfriend. And two years later I’m lazy and don’t run. Still short, and getting fat all over again . eish.
THEN – I was asked if I would run in a race. Our company was taking part in a relay called “Mudman” and they needed a runner for the team. So I agreed to run.
Out of – I don’t know, a lot of teams, we placed fourth, and my time in the race was surprisingly good. I was quite chuffed, and now, I’m all motivated to run again. my best friend has accused me of turning into a lesbian. Bless.
Anyway. that’s my story. As boringly brilliant as it is I really must get back to work. but here is a nice picture of my leg with my race number, and then a picture of yachts at Wilson’s Wharf, which is one of my face places to go and chill…
Bye bye.
Wednesday, March 16, 2011
got this from Niks blog
Saw this on Niks blog :)
Name: Wozzel
Country: South Africa
Age: 30
How old were you when you first realized you were gay? I knew very early in life. I did not admit it immediately or always understand what was going on, but I knew I was different. But the time I was 16 I knew for sure that I was gay.
Do you have more gay friends or straight friends? I think I have a really nice balance of gay and straight friends. I prefer having more straight friends though. Just less drama I suppose.
Biggest turn on? Blue eyes. Humour. Hairy chest. (that was exactly what Nik said) and my boyfriend is all of those :)
Biggest turn off? People who have no drive. No ambition.
Ever been harassed due to your orientation? No. I’ve been quite lucky in the sense that I’ve never been given a hard time for being gay.
Have you ever been surprised at the reaction of people who know you are gay? People are often surprised when they first find out. I always think it’s quite funny.
What is the worst gay stereotype? Sex. Screaming queens. Will and Grace.
Are you a stereotype? Nope
Ever been to a pride rally? Yes. Cape Town and Johannesburg.
Do you go to gay bars? I refuse to!! I hate gay bars, clubs etc. I just don’t have the energy or time.
How old were you when you first told someone you were gay? 16
Did you plan it? If so, how? No. I was with my best friend and we were talking and I was like “heyyyy – hahaha – I’m gay”
What made you choose that person to tell? Was my best friend. I felt I could trust him. And I could.
How did you feel? I was so glad I finally had someone to talk to. And I loved how he used to tease me. He would always point out at guys and say “oh look, do you think he is cute” and then he would laugh. I loved it. I finally felt relieved of a stress.
Have you ever been snubbed by someone after coming out to them? No
Have you come out to your family? Yes. They have been really great about it.
Why did you come out at that point? I could not pretend anymore, plus I was worried it would come out somewhere else and it would first be a “rumor” and I wanted to be the one who told my family myself.
Are you out at work? Yes
What does being out mean to you? To me, it means living life like a normal person who does not have to hide who they are.
What advice would you give someone wanting to come out? It gets better :)
If you could do it all again, would you do it any differently? If so, how? I would not change a thing. Really.
Name: Wozzel
Country: South Africa
Age: 30
How old were you when you first realized you were gay? I knew very early in life. I did not admit it immediately or always understand what was going on, but I knew I was different. But the time I was 16 I knew for sure that I was gay.
Do you have more gay friends or straight friends? I think I have a really nice balance of gay and straight friends. I prefer having more straight friends though. Just less drama I suppose.
Biggest turn on? Blue eyes. Humour. Hairy chest. (that was exactly what Nik said) and my boyfriend is all of those :)
Biggest turn off? People who have no drive. No ambition.
Ever been harassed due to your orientation? No. I’ve been quite lucky in the sense that I’ve never been given a hard time for being gay.
Have you ever been surprised at the reaction of people who know you are gay? People are often surprised when they first find out. I always think it’s quite funny.
What is the worst gay stereotype? Sex. Screaming queens. Will and Grace.
Are you a stereotype? Nope
Ever been to a pride rally? Yes. Cape Town and Johannesburg.
Do you go to gay bars? I refuse to!! I hate gay bars, clubs etc. I just don’t have the energy or time.
How old were you when you first told someone you were gay? 16
Did you plan it? If so, how? No. I was with my best friend and we were talking and I was like “heyyyy – hahaha – I’m gay”
What made you choose that person to tell? Was my best friend. I felt I could trust him. And I could.
How did you feel? I was so glad I finally had someone to talk to. And I loved how he used to tease me. He would always point out at guys and say “oh look, do you think he is cute” and then he would laugh. I loved it. I finally felt relieved of a stress.
Have you ever been snubbed by someone after coming out to them? No
Have you come out to your family? Yes. They have been really great about it.
Why did you come out at that point? I could not pretend anymore, plus I was worried it would come out somewhere else and it would first be a “rumor” and I wanted to be the one who told my family myself.
Are you out at work? Yes
What does being out mean to you? To me, it means living life like a normal person who does not have to hide who they are.
What advice would you give someone wanting to come out? It gets better :)
If you could do it all again, would you do it any differently? If so, how? I would not change a thing. Really.
Monday, March 14, 2011
of blue cakes and turning 30
I cried myself to sleep the eve of my 30th birthday. Not because I was turning 30, but because a culmination of stressful events were becoming even more stressful and presenting new challenges that I was quite simply, not in the mood for. Coupled with fierce nostalgia and memories of my gran telling me what a big boy I was becoming on my 13th birthday 17 years earlier – it was all just too much.
I woke up on the 14th of March 2011 with more hair than I thought I would at 30, and a pimple the size of South Africa on my chin.
“I’m 30” I shouted at it. “30! What the fuck is there a pimple on my face for at 30!”
The pimple just looked at me with a cheeky look, sneering at me as pimples do and continued being a pimple. “Fucktard” I shouted at it. “Dam you!”
My gran called me on the morning of my 30th, and sang “Happy Birthday to you” as she always does and I cried just a little at the beauty of it and the shakiness in her voice, then laughed when she said “you’re catching up to me now old man” I felt such a warmth and love come over me. To have my gran singing happy birthday for me at this stage in my life. I’m lucky. I know it. I appreciate it, and I tell her every day.
I’m not one for holidays and celebrations. I don’t go crazy doodle over Valentines; I don’t hide chocolate eggs on Easter. I don’t get all “Merrily on high” over Christmas, but there is something about birthdays… something special and magic and I believe that everyone should celebrate their birthdays.
At least! If nothing else at all.
I’ve had a few. 30 in fact, so I think myself a bit of a professional in this regard. I’ve been planning my own birthday parties since I was 11 – the year of the blue cake. The year no one ate cake at my birthday party. My mother did warn me I was not following the instructions properly – but I was in control and I was doing this my way.
Hehe. That ugly blue cake.
And now, 19 years later I still celebrate my birthday in the grandest style I can. This year will be a small private affair. Just going out for dinner with my family and boyfriend and I can not think of anything else I would rather be doing.
I don’t bake blue cakes anymore, but I think tonight I just might.
I woke up on the 14th of March 2011 with more hair than I thought I would at 30, and a pimple the size of South Africa on my chin.
“I’m 30” I shouted at it. “30! What the fuck is there a pimple on my face for at 30!”
The pimple just looked at me with a cheeky look, sneering at me as pimples do and continued being a pimple. “Fucktard” I shouted at it. “Dam you!”
My gran called me on the morning of my 30th, and sang “Happy Birthday to you” as she always does and I cried just a little at the beauty of it and the shakiness in her voice, then laughed when she said “you’re catching up to me now old man” I felt such a warmth and love come over me. To have my gran singing happy birthday for me at this stage in my life. I’m lucky. I know it. I appreciate it, and I tell her every day.
I’m not one for holidays and celebrations. I don’t go crazy doodle over Valentines; I don’t hide chocolate eggs on Easter. I don’t get all “Merrily on high” over Christmas, but there is something about birthdays… something special and magic and I believe that everyone should celebrate their birthdays.
At least! If nothing else at all.
I’ve had a few. 30 in fact, so I think myself a bit of a professional in this regard. I’ve been planning my own birthday parties since I was 11 – the year of the blue cake. The year no one ate cake at my birthday party. My mother did warn me I was not following the instructions properly – but I was in control and I was doing this my way.
Hehe. That ugly blue cake.
And now, 19 years later I still celebrate my birthday in the grandest style I can. This year will be a small private affair. Just going out for dinner with my family and boyfriend and I can not think of anything else I would rather be doing.
I don’t bake blue cakes anymore, but I think tonight I just might.
Tuesday, February 22, 2011
shock
It has just dawned me that I have only 20 days left before I'm no longer 20something.
Somehow - an awfully insignificant event seems, well, significant.
We'll see I guess.
Somehow - an awfully insignificant event seems, well, significant.
We'll see I guess.
of history, that's mine. some of it.
Today on facebook, an aunt of mine, who lives in England posted an old photograph of a newspaper article cut out. I never knew my dad or his side of the family but since the birth of facebook I’ve found some of them – although communication is very limited. What would we say to each other?
One of the men in the photographs face jumped right out at me! “hmmm… I know those features… blimey! He’s got a face like mine!!!”
Anyway.. Turns out this pic is one of my grandfather and his assistant. He was apparently quite a clever man who worked with the old steam trains and this pic was taken on the day that one, I believe to be named “Lady Mona” did her last rail trip from Port Shepstone to Durban.
That’s all I got. I’ve e-mailed family for more information coz I be like, interested to know more.
So..
“hey hey! nice to see your face for the first time in my life. and might I just say, what a handsome face it is, although the generations have been good to me and I pull it off just a bit better than you – just saying”
#*#*#*#*#*#*#*#
After post edit
#*#*#*#*#*#*#*#
I’ve had a response to my email to my aunt in the UK and she is emailing me the article clipping that can not be seen in the pic. Woot woot.
One of the men in the photographs face jumped right out at me! “hmmm… I know those features… blimey! He’s got a face like mine!!!”
Anyway.. Turns out this pic is one of my grandfather and his assistant. He was apparently quite a clever man who worked with the old steam trains and this pic was taken on the day that one, I believe to be named “Lady Mona” did her last rail trip from Port Shepstone to Durban.
That’s all I got. I’ve e-mailed family for more information coz I be like, interested to know more.
So..
“hey hey! nice to see your face for the first time in my life. and might I just say, what a handsome face it is, although the generations have been good to me and I pull it off just a bit better than you – just saying”
#*#*#*#*#*#*#*#
After post edit
#*#*#*#*#*#*#*#
I’ve had a response to my email to my aunt in the UK and she is emailing me the article clipping that can not be seen in the pic. Woot woot.
Tuesday, February 15, 2011
my teenage dream
Only a friend would send an email containing pictures of my latest celebrity crush at opportune moments. When I really needed a smile…
Having a bad day this side… agg, fek it, who am I kidding, I’m having a bad month.
And then.. sigh, voila – I have Darren Criss half naked on e-mail. Hehe. Tis a best friends duty to remember the little things like this in life.
What is it about him?
The full lips?
The dark smoldering eyes?
The thick brown hair?
The fact that he can sing?
I don’t know. I don’t care. I just want to lick him.
Having a bad day this side… agg, fek it, who am I kidding, I’m having a bad month.
And then.. sigh, voila – I have Darren Criss half naked on e-mail. Hehe. Tis a best friends duty to remember the little things like this in life.
What is it about him?
The full lips?
The dark smoldering eyes?
The thick brown hair?
The fact that he can sing?
I don’t know. I don’t care. I just want to lick him.
Friday, February 4, 2011
dexter
This morning Dexter caught his first bird.
At all of 5 months old, my cat child is a murderer.
The baby pigeon he managed to get his claws into never stood a chance.
There was just so much blood and feathers! I was completely freaked out. I understand that this is what cats do, and I’ve been ok with the geckos, but a bird. It’s just messy.
And so there he was. My beautiful boy, covered in blood and grinning from ear to ear.
I can not cope.
Could not bring myself to take a picture of him covered in blood but here is a nice pretty picture of him.
At all of 5 months old, my cat child is a murderer.
The baby pigeon he managed to get his claws into never stood a chance.
There was just so much blood and feathers! I was completely freaked out. I understand that this is what cats do, and I’ve been ok with the geckos, but a bird. It’s just messy.
And so there he was. My beautiful boy, covered in blood and grinning from ear to ear.
I can not cope.
Could not bring myself to take a picture of him covered in blood but here is a nice pretty picture of him.
Monday, January 31, 2011
whipped my hair back and forth
I always seem to take things to the extreme when I’m alone. Like this weekend for example. The boyfriend needed to go away on Saturday morning, gets back home tomorrow, but since he’s been gone all I’ve done is eat junk food, drink copious amounts of beer and wine and update my facebook. Like 300 times a day and you can tell how bored / pissed I am because yesterday all I did was talk about Willow Smith.
Sad eh?
What’s sadder is that I actually love her song. I cant get enough of it. and it makes me want to dance in a naughty way, which just freaks me out because it’s sung my a 9 year old.
There is something not right about that, but who am I to say so.
I feel like death warmed up, but I’m not complaining. This is entirely my own fault. I’m going to look for a hole to crawl into and wait for this day to end. I need my bed.
Am I the only one who thinks Willow looks like she could be an extra in Avatar? It’s terrible that I’m talking about a child like this, but really. It’s not my fault.
Sad eh?
What’s sadder is that I actually love her song. I cant get enough of it. and it makes me want to dance in a naughty way, which just freaks me out because it’s sung my a 9 year old.
There is something not right about that, but who am I to say so.
I feel like death warmed up, but I’m not complaining. This is entirely my own fault. I’m going to look for a hole to crawl into and wait for this day to end. I need my bed.
Am I the only one who thinks Willow looks like she could be an extra in Avatar? It’s terrible that I’m talking about a child like this, but really. It’s not my fault.
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