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 :)
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