?questions

Age-old question. What do you do when your boyfriend has been to a strip-club and lied about it? Well, more like didn’t mention it. Lying by omission- is that still a bad one? Here is another question- how do you un-know something you are not supposed to know to begin with?

You don’t. And to answer the first question. Fuck if I know. Lies are funny like that. Nobody knows all the rules. And because of the nature of a lie we kinda make them up as we go along.

Maybe the first question was not an AGE-old question. Here is a better one: How do I call you honey if you’re not really sweet?
I went home this weekend. My real home. My parent’s house. Generally life works like this:
• You’re born
• If lucky you spent some of your childhood at home
• Then you leave home repeatedly until either you or your parents move on

The homes we later create are really that for our children. Not for us. So I say, those who live at home well into their 40s know something we don’t. And yes my world view is extremely sheltered but it is mine.

I digress. I went home to see my parents before going far far away. They are cool my parents. Cool in an un-cool way. For instance I often wonder if I’ll ever be as gracious and elegant as my mother. Or wise and magnanimous like my father. I am their daughter so chances are good that I have a chance.

But then I come back to Johannesburg. To my life. And it’s fabrications and such a severe disconnection from everything that I literally ache and nothing I do numbs the ache. There is a catch though. My friends and boyfriend are convinced I need made-up angst to feel interesting. Fuck ‘em. I love them, but...okay maybe that’s not a catch.

It’s not that I’m unhappy. It is just that I can’t quite place my emotions all the time. And words are always getting in the way of what I feel.
If I ever leave and never come back- I want my parents to know they did it better than anybody else.

Nobody reads this blog. And whoever starts, won’t look at the archives. People never go back.
I’m sorry I missed two days. I had material but could not be bothered. I am pretty sure this is not supposed to be a diary- I’ll fix that.

As for the questions in the beginning: I wish you believed half the things I say, maybe then you might just know me a bit better.

Tact People

Finally after a gruelling week of waiting- I got the new frame for my glasses today. Yay! The frame is gorgeous if I do say so myself. But what I found disturbing was how my optometrist and his two assistants could not stop telling me how much better it was than my old one.

I mean sure- I understand the concept of standing behind your product, but I had already bought the damn frame. Plus I felt I gushed just the right amount for them to just nod politely and let it go. To be repeatedly told how abhorrent my old frame is/was especially when I was still wearing it was annoying.

Then last night, my friend (let’s call her Spikey for her unnatural love for Spike the vampire- note how I have decided to try out the nicknames) mentioned how by applying a little eye-liner her entire office suddenly decided she was so pretty. Her concern and rightly so, was: were they implying that before the eye-liner she in her spikey fineness was hideous?

I think yes. Most people would lie about directions to a blind man. Why? Because people generally suck. And when they could leave one alone to think that even though they have purchased a fabulous new frame- they did not spent the last two years of their lives looking like Shrek with glasses.

A labour of something akin to love

So I am still obsessing about my new blog. Today’s focus of aforementioned obsession is will my blog be different, interesting and uniquely me?
I think not. I shouldn’t probably say this but then again I should be fully engrossed with a task my boss has just given me. There was no deadline attached- to me that is always code for “when you can get around to it”.
Back to my dilemma. Whilst I do get that South Africa is not exactly the U.S where blogs have made many a tacky writer famous- I live in hope. Who knows right? Some wildly rich publisher might just think me brilliant. Although I also worry that a blog does not exactly show off a writer’s talent.
Back to dilemma for real- will my blog be different from all the others? The reasons I tend to doubt are these:
• I started the blog after reading a couple and thinking to myself- I can do that.
• I really want to give little nicknames to everybody I write about- which everybody does
• I have no clear focus at the moment of what this is exactly about
• Sooner or later- the one person presently reading this will tire of my insecurity and move back to relishing Perez Hilton
I was also wondering if all the scandalous things I shall surely write about will someday be used against me in a court of law. But things I need to get to the getting.
p.s I am absurdly happy that I have four followers. I am not sure what it means exactly but I was like yay- 4 people cared enough to click on ‘follow’.
p.s.s The euphoria of boss coming back from France is wearing off. Especially because his assistant is still away and I always hate being the stand in because like does anybody here really know how smart I am?

Maybe this Time

I am new to blogging, therefore I am not quite sure what blog etiquette is. For instance- can you have more than one post in one day? You might think this simple enough to answer. I mean it’s only natural that more than one thing happens in a day. But maybe one should rather wait till the end of the day and write about it in its entirety.
Well here it goes:
• I woke up
• Went to work
• Hugged my boss who’d just come back from Cannes
• Started a blog
• Mused if said blog is going to make me famous

The above is not exactly riveting stuff. The reason I came back to post something else though is slightly more profound than describing my day- if I may be so bold. I told my boyfriend on the way home that I had started a blog. His initial response was- “baby what happened to the book you had just started?”
It is on hold. I tend to do that quite a bit. Put things on hold. I blame my parents of course- they should have equipped me with the skills to not put things on hold. To be a follow-throughwer.
So I find myself wondering...will this blog be yet another aspect of my life that is shelved?
It is eerie being almost 27- looking at your life and thinking there is still so much time to live and do things. But I was once 21 and thought the same. Time is a sneaky little bitch.
The point is I do not know if this blog will still hold my interest tomorrow. I hope it does- because there is a lot of fuckery in the world that somebody needs to write about.
Tomorrow I’ll learn how to dismantle shelves.

A little less fuckery would do us all some good

I wish for Lindsay Lohan to get her ish together. I honestly think if that girl can de-skank herself, sober up, read a book and get back to work then there is hope yet for the human race.
Allow me to feebly construct an argument I may or may not buy but that I hope to convince you with.
Lindsay started out relatively okay. How cute was she in the parent trap? And one often thinks if you're that adorable as a kid- surely some of that should linger well into adulthood.
She started out dealing with a lot already. Her mother is nuts and possibly on crack- who knows? Her father borders on the creepy side of things. How could she not be what she is?
So if this person with all the odds against her (she was not exactly on welfare and abused but bear with me) could get it together, what would prevent the douchebag from next door doing the same?
NOTHING.
Point made.