To my neglected blog

I have missed you. Truly and deeply. I admit, ours is an unbalanced relationship. I use you. Thoroughly and not always in the most fair of ways. That I admit. But the world is cruel and mostly boring stuck in an office. A girl needs an outlet- that is where you fit in.

Dear blog. I have kept my deep dark secrets to myself. But I do give you hints as to how my heart bends. Only you know how deeply the love messes with me. Twists me inside out, until I want to bleed for a little relief. Then the sun comes up and his limbs are all tangled up with mine. How can it be anything but divine will?

You know how silly I can be. Easily hurt, but I throw back the knives just as hard. A true brat through and through. Yet my friends still like me. It irks me sometimes how they act as if they did not know that side of me. How I ask. They better than my family and lover, know the brat. I get it, I am too much for myself as well. Sometimes.

I neglect you, when I should nurture you. Let’s catch up. I am to be wed to the love of my life. How trippy is that? It sounds warped even as I write it. Ah, but it is so true. You should see the ring. In that ring lies the trick to my betrothed. Somehow he knows me at my most basic level. It’s simple and complicated- but never at the same time. I am happy- truly, all round happy. Work is better than before- a huge make-over will happen. But it is good. I hate my wardrobe. I shop with fear- I need to be fearless about my style. I feel nondescript in my clothes. It helps that I like my body or it would be a disaster. That I am definitely going to totally change.

Till next time- sweet blog. I promise to be deep. Maybe even funny.
Be good!

when wisdom hits

It is a sad triumph that working people take in that clock hand hitting five. Suddenly they are all like ‘VICTORY’, I made through another day. Then they often think they are entitled to some sort of reward, and that is how most alcoholics started out. With that after work drink. There might be something- I should come back to it.

Since I am getting married (yay and happy dance- because people are convinced I am not nearly as excited as I should be) I am no longer confused by my status as an adult. Of course I am grown-up. An actual (rather adorable) boy-man wants to marry me. And once I am hitched- I will be Ma-what-what. Wait, I think I need a kid for that title. Crap! I digress, as usual.

My point was going to be that as a full-fledged adult, I need job satisfaction. Sure annoying colleagues whose thought patterns are obscure and dull management make that hard, but not impossible. So I pledge to go against the tide. To take pleasure in ALL my work and not just the creative bits.

And now I am off to celebrate my victory!

Marc by Marc Jacobs

I really do apologise for my last blog. It is almost a pity I wrote it sober...although in my defence I did think I was close to the end.

This past Saturday I went to a vintage-market-sale thingy. And for once I am proud to say I did not have to be dragged there. It is really disturbing how maybe 7 times out of 10, I have to feel like I went somewhere out of duress- when I’d rather be at home, doing nothing. I digress.

The point is I went under my own volition. And even though said-friend-who-did-not-drag-me-there would like to claim responsibility I bought my first ever proper designer bag of my volition. The bag is a rather cute Marc Jacobs workwear pink leather bag. See picture.

I am not really a designer-label junkie. My fashion criterion usually rises to cute. The cheaper the better. Cheaper and of awesome quality- even better! I know, very hard to find. The point of my recent purchase is that this bag is my first. I will treasure it for a while to come. More than the bag- I really like Marc Jacobs. Usually designers make a little impression on me beyond their clothes, but Marc is quirky and cute.

I also found out that vintage store people tend to look down on designer-purchases. The sales person at the store insinuated my purchase was absurd and I am sure he thinks I kick hungry kids in the street. So unfair. But that is the price one pays.
The phone keeps ringing- so I am going to have to stop. Point is- I love my new bag. It’s been a long time coming.

dizzy spell

Last night, someone locked me at work. It was not a complete disaster as I had my tag with me and an alarm code. I found out this morning that it was actually my boss who’d done it. It was disturbing that he is not aware that for the last couple of months I have been working late almost every night. It is not for noble reasons (I have to wait for my person to pick me up), but still.

Anyway- that little incident got me thinking about being forgotten. It fucking sucks. Friends, lover and parents have all forgotten me at one point or other.

Not fucking cool.

I have some difficulty in writing this blog as I suspect I might actually die. I am on this medication that says to ‘avoid alcohol’. Who knew they were serious? I had like two sips. My head got sore. I stopped. But now, it is still sore. I am a little itchy and I closed my eyes for 30 seconds and now I am seeing stars.

This might be the last thing I ever write. So if your prescription bottle says ‘AVOID ALCOHOL’ then just fucking do it. Who knew dentists are like real doctors?? Not fair. Great- now I feel nauseous. Woe is me world. Can’t even remember what I started blogging about and frankly I don’t give a damn!

Grown Ups!

You know the song ‘Like a Woman’? It goes, ‘I make love just like a woman, but I break just like a little girl’. I kinda love that song, but lately I think I live it too. Last night I threw up from too much alcohol in too short a time. Who still pukes from too much alcohol? Apparently me.

It is depressing. And today I am having lunch at a friend’s house with other friends. The friend that is feeding us just had a baby. She is actually pretty happy. She is single mom, but the baby daddy is pretty supportive. I’m happy for her, but it’s depressing.

I am only ever useful at work. I feel incapable of growing up and if you’re 27 then that just feels lame. Do not get me wrong I have plenty of blessings. A cute boy loves me and I love him back, a great family, a good job and taste. But it’s little things like still not knowing how to drive and having no learner’s licence that depress the fuck out of me on days like these.

kisses

There is nothing quite binding as a kiss. My birthday was on the 13th of June. I am a full grown and awkward 27 years old. A little wiser- there are plenty of kisses that I regret. After seeing my line-up maybe, ‘plenty’ is not the correct word as my lip buddies are well under the number 10.

The first man I ever kissed is my father. Not in a gross make-out way, but in how fathers and daughters kiss. I mention this, as oppose to the countless uncles I have exchanged kisses with, because I am my father’s daughter. I have a rather unhealthy need to please him and be perfect, without actually being pleasing to him and hardly perfect. I hide my blemishes well, which takes its toll. I love my father dearly and he loves me. But there are times I am crushed by his expectations and I have grown so used to bottling it up, that I would rather perpetuate the myth than be honest with him.

The first boy I ever kissed promised to love me forever. So far so good. I was 15 and terrified. We’re both much older and the kisses still mean something. There is kissing to say hello and goodbye, kisses to make up for a bad fight, kisses to replace tears and kisses of contentment. We probably fight more than a happy couple should. But we are happy. It’s not perfect- but it’s our mess and we do the best to become better at it.

I kissed a girl in high-school. It was hardly life changing. Then I kissed my closest friend for quite a while until it became a pleasant habit. It breaks my heart to think I might never kiss her again- because we are not us anymore. Of course we still love each other fiercely- but we lost an intimacy to our friendship. It was probably all my fault. I tend to fuck up. A lot.

The 2nd boy I kissed tricked me. The 3rd seduced me. The 4th amused me. And the 5th I felt bad for. It’s always the kisses one should not have had that annoy me the most. Being older should mean accepting your mistakes and cherishing the good decisions. But fuck it. I’d rather I had always kissed whoever I’d have wanted to kiss in the future. Sound complicated no? Well maybe it is. It feels like I gave too much away. Locking lips is no small matter.

27 has taught me one thing and one thing only. To be selfish with my kisses. I have seen a glimpse of my future. In it- I am high on champagne, smug about having found true love, on a spiritual quest, happy and above all- kissing only those who deserve my lips. Another thing 27 has taught me- giving away kisses willy-nilly means you are the one that runs out.

P.S I meant to blog endlessly about my trip to Romania, but maybe later. Inspiration came and went.

and i do mean, EVERYTHING!

One more thing I am certain about in life:
-S.A temporary passports are only good for some holiday in Maseru on the pretext that some obscure relative has departed this world-

For international travel, one needs to try a little bit harder. I thought I’d finally be updating my blog on my way to Munich to catch a flight to Timisoara. Instead I on the sleeper couch, next to soon-to-be-hubby trying to figure out the reasons. Shit happens is not really good enough for me. I prefer the butterfly effect. So in essence, some maniac in china stomped on an ant and I was rudely turned away from my flight.

I do have a solution though. Of course God willing- I can quickly get my visa on Monday. I really do hope I do, I do not relish the thought of explaining to 10 different people at work why I am still in South Africa.

Oh and I am not an idiot, I did have a visa. It’s just in the wrong passport.
This blog was supposed to be about the show Tumi and the Volume put on last night at the Blues Room. I’m no longer in the mood for my somewhat scathing review. In short, Zubz was oddly perched on a stool swinging his legs for 80% of the show. It really bothered me. Plus I kinda think he sucks now. But that’s another tale entirely.

Moral of my crappy experience? Everything and I do mean everything has purpose behind it. Think about that, next time you pick Gordon’s Gin over Tanqueray.