Aww fuck! There goes the neighbourhood.

I live in the proud, New South Africa. I love my country, and cannot imagine myself lifting roots, and pissing off somewhere else.

BUUUUUUUUT!!!!

Political tragedy has come to pass. The possibility that we are getting a rapist, fraud endorsing, crook as president, is now very real. Scares the shit out of me, and makes me ashamed of the mentality of – apparently – the majority of South Africans. Shame on us all, that a man like that even managed to get as high up the corporate ladder as he has. No good can come of this. The man is a Neanderthal, with charisma. Sadly, there goes the past 13 years of babysteps in the right direction.

Bad, bad, bad for my country.

Update: Drove past a van this morning with the slogan “Africa shall be saved” screaming at me. Well, all right then. Phew! I was worried.

The Adventures of Bullet-Proof Girl & JC

JC is ….. ummmm…… I’m unsure how to describe him. Ok, let’s keep this simple. JC is a man I felt for, felt a LOT for, but due to various unchangeable situations, we never went beyond passionate kisses, and a lot of longing on my side. JC went away, far far away, a couple of years ago. He visits now and again, a fact I both love and hate.

Last year I asked him not to come see me anymore when he’s in town. Which he respected for a few months, and then, to my relief, contacted me on e-mail, again. We keep up a very unsatisfactory, very rare e-mail correspondence.

Yesterday, he shows up at my office, and my first impulse is to run into his arms, and lay my head on his chest. Which I did, without thought, totally on instinct. With anyone else, I would be guarded and more than a little pissed off that they went against my wishes. But, because it’s JC, I conveniently block out any pain, any disappointment, in a nutshell, any reality, and indulge the vulnerable side, that feels safe next to him, and wants to reach out and take his hand when crossing the road, like a child.

He stayed for about an hour, and after he left, left me pondering my reaction. A few times, I had the urge to curl up on his lap, and just be ….. quiet ….. safe ….. untouchable by anything that could hurt. I don’t know what it is about him that makes me feel this way. I don’t know that I’ve ever felt so vulnerable (and so illogically safe) with any other man. I don’t know whether this is what love’s supposed to feel like. I do know that I’ve never let myself do the things I want to do with him, but also, that it’s been a struggle with my conscience, all the way.

The fact that he’d never be mine, is all right. It used to hurt, but now, I’ve accepted it, and know that it would have been impossible anyway.

What puzzles me is that he makes me feel vulnerable and small, like I need protection, and I like it. I like the feeling, and aside from my logical mind always going into shock, I’m content next to him.

I wondered whether this is a side-effect from having a very shitty year – emotionally speaking. Realising that I am soft inside, and that I do hurt, and that, no matter how hard I try to act invulnerable and hide, it’s just not possible anymore.

Suppose what I’m trying to get to here, is that I’m glad he’s still around to point out stuff like this, me still having a soft, vulnerable side, a side that peeps out when the right person to trigger it, shows up. I’m glad that I want to stop acting like Bullet-Proof Girl, and just curl up with someone. Let someone guard me, and not threaten to kick everybody’s ass, for once.

I’m glad you’re still around, JC, and I’m glad the Sweetie side of me is still around, too.

Various Jumbled Messes & the Holiday Season

Mess #1:
When my parents split up, all of 13 years ago, my father instructed me to "talk to your mother", indicating rather strongly that it was up to me to get her thinking right. I didn't, mainly because I thought / still think, she did the right thing. Now, Father has split up with his lady-friend, and has been making noises to Sister (his confidante), that he "thinks it would be the right thing" to get back together with mom, to stop the family from "splitting apart". Now, apart from the obvious incriminations I could throw his way, there's the added aspect of him ordering my sister to tell me about it, so I can tell mom, so she can "get right" and take him back, "for the family's sake". I've once again, decided not to do anything, and not make this my responsibility, as it's not supposed to be. What gets to me about the situation is how immesurably sad this is...... After all these years, he still doesn't have a clue, not a clue......

Mess #2:
A while ago I blogged about sending my CV abroad, which I did in the hopes of getting reaction from a very prominent international body, and possibly getting a contract with them, for the betterment of the world (yes, sounds corny, but that's actually what I want). And, yes, they do warn that they may take months before they get back to you, if they do at all. Still, it's been 3 months, and I'm close to despair. Thing is, I have a job, I do my job since it feeds us and puts a roof above our heads, but I will never love my job. And, I will never get to the stage that I would actually be able to afford a place of our own, or a car, should my little wagon decide to die. This job I've applied for would solve 2 problems, it would be something that MEANS something to me, something good. Second, it would give me an extremely welcome financial boost. Maybe even enough for a downpayment on a home. So, what's making me sad, is that I feel like I need this, and nothing's happening.

Mess #3:
My son is, once again, spending time with his father, and step family. I always experience his absence as a physical thing, I start craving his closeness, I miss holding him so badly, that I want to start crying. Which, yes, means that I love my son, which is good, but seeing on his little face the desperation I feel inside myself, when he gets the chance to come say hi, while staying with them, breaks my heart. It's too much, he shouldn't be this attached to me, I shouldn't be this attached to him, it's not good for either of us.

Mess #4:
As stated yesterday, I'm now willing to acknowledge that I'll probably always believe in love, no matter how disillusioned I sound, and how much bitterness I may spout at various stages of loneliness. Love is, and always will be, to me, the one thing that might (MIGHT) make this life worthwhile. Mess is, I have a serious shortage in my life, and don't know what to do about it. So, I guess, admitting it, and asking for more is a start, right?

Now..... The Mutherfocking Holiday Season
Is a time of year I detest, in the worst possible way! People seem to get a little extra dollop of crazy in their cereal bowls each morning, and this gets progressively worse, as the month of December drags it's feet to January. At work, I have to suppress cursing like a patient with terminal Tourettes, or getting on our open plan shared desk, and starting a slow pole dance, while shouting a Joe Cocker song, out of sheer, unadulterated BOREDOM!! NO phones to answer, no cases to issue, nothing to do, but freak out slowly in my mind. In the streets, people form little clumps in the middle of the pavement, blocking pedestrian traffic from both sides, to discuss the Christmas menu, or how stingy this lastest boyfriend is.... Or, they dawdle along, platoons of four or five wide, always just too many to pass without actually running into the street, and wave umbrellas around, while shouting at the person RIGHT NEXT to them. People start reminding me that they want "a christmas" (gift) that I never have any kind of interaction with for the rest of the year. In short, the holiday season drives me nuts, it's like people pop out of the manholes, more each day, with the express duty of driving me insane. As an added bonus, fmilies go on holiday, people get all exited and fuzzy with 'holiday spirit', and babbling about gifts, and big meat dinners with family, blah blah blah. Which is not something a person, essentially alone, even in the twisted embrace of my slightly scary family, wants to hear about. Can't even drink, since Father is a recovering alcoholic, and Sister gave up for fear of becoming one.

Well, at least I'll be getting a few gifts, maybe there's actually someone in my family that gets me enough to find me somehting I actually like, this year (sigh). Here's to hoping.

I've declared myself Hopeless

Every time I go through one of these intensely depressed times, I think "THIS will be the last time I set myself up like this. NEXT time, I'll be hardened and anti-love, so I'll never feel like this again!!!!"

Yeah, well, not so much hard as nails.

So, I've decided to declare myself a hopeless believer in love, and deal with it.

Wonderful.

(That last bit was sarcasm, just in case you didn't spot it.)

Dear Beautiful Beloved Beings

You remember that financial document the man who pays my salary is supposed to give me on an annual basis? The one I have been begging you to convince him to complete and give to me, on and off for the past 2 years?

Yeah, well, he still hasn't. And if he doesn't within the next 8 weeks, I will be considered a criminal by the law makers of my country.

So, I am begging you to help me out here, please please please, somehow, make him do the right thing...... Please please please. I am not a criminal.

Guys, please. Make it so.

Sylphi

Dream of Deliverance

I am standing in what appears to be a bath room, with another person, sex unknown, who is holding a baby, around 18 months old.

Suddenly, the floor starts flooding, rapidly. The water level rises incredibly fast, and when it reaches hip height, the other person gets panicky about getting out. I calmly take the child from him/her, turn around, and start wading through the house, heading for the front door. By now the water is making it difficult to move, and keeps rising. I reach the front room with the water forcing me to swim, and keeping mine and the very quiet baby’s heads, above it. When I reach the closed door, the water engulfs us, and I struggle to open the door.

I finally get it open, only to see a glass door in front of it, blocking the water from going out. I realise that it’s a matter of time before the pressure takes care of the glass for me, and turn my back in preparation. The door implodes suddenly, shooting shards into the water, instead of to the outside, and we’re rushed outside on a current of clear water.

I am exhausted, but very calm. Medical personnel show up, and I hand them the still quiet baby, and turn my back to show them the 2 shards of glass sticking out.

Somehow I know that one room in the house was filled with people, and that they are all dead. I am not sad, I am relieved that we made it through.

TAFKA Chief Advisor’s analysis:
Clear water, as opposed to murky or muddy, is good. So, the water is an issue I am dealing with, that I am capable of dealing with, but that I experience as a build-up of pressure (swimming through rising water). When the resolution comes (glass door shattering) it may be violent, but it will lead to resolution. The baby represents a new beginning, which I desire and, ultimately will have. Dead people may represent those in my life now, that will not have space in the new, and that I will not mourn their loss, but accept it as part of the order of things.

Ok, then. Bring it.

0800-BALL-BUSTER, call me....

According to very scientifical research , mostly conducted by males, since, you know, most women, like, suck at science and all, men are attracted to women who have “good fertility indicators”. So I’s has a little enquiry bout this. What’s that mean in our current frame of reference? I mean, socially, it’s totally accepted that probably around 75% of all girls (in a very big racial majority) below 18, already has their first child. Now, I realise that I am generalising something fierce here, and that there are some very valid arguments out there to try and prove me wrong, but, bear with me, in my circles, the statement I made, is deifinitely accurate. Upon enquiring why, I was informed that this proves their fertility, and thus, makes ‘em worthy procreators, and pushes up the asking price for their parents, when they sell ‘em (payment is called ‘lobola’, Google it if you don’t believe me). Sharp, I don’t get that, but whatever floats your boat, right?

So, let’s look at this from another angle. I am 34, I was 28 when I had my baby, whilst married. My question is this, does the abovementioned principle have a “sell by” date? Why is it that being a single mom while a tad more mature makes me ‘complicated’ and not ‘fertile’?

And here’s the part where I’m probably gonna piss off most men, my conclusion on this is: Men want younger women solely because they are easier to manipulate, the ‘bending the tree while it’s still green’ mentality. They (in most cases) are more willing to deal with 'things', and are in general easier to convince that something is ‘permissable’ that should not be. In short, they have yet to learn that they have worth, and that that worth comes at a price.

But, I am getting a tad off topic here:

According to recentish research, let’s do a comparison of what the test population thought was desirable in women:

Hips, ass, boobs (that fertitility thing again) Check
No tall enough to be intimidating Check (Short to medium myself)
Feminine features Check (Blonde curls, blue eyes)

I have been told that I look fragile and vulnerable, which apparently makes men feel protective (and subsequently very manly) around me. So, physically there’s nothing about me that screams “Turn and run, turn and run!” to guys, right? Right. So, the problem has to figure in the equation once the guy has gotten to the stage where he actually realises that I am more than a vagina with a body attached to it. When it becomes impossible to keep the blinders on, and they HAVE to notice a personality, a brain, and gasp, an opinion!

Now, I have to mention here that from my teenage years, I have always had good male friends, but VERY few boy friends, and have had 2 serious relationships, with 1 ‘could-go-either-way’ relationship, and 1 I have to admit to never being remotely serious, although the guy was. So, ratio of guy friends to boy friends are probably around 98 to 2, figuratively speaking. Ergo, it would be safe to say that men prefer friends who are secure enough to have actual honest-to-god opinions and views, but not relationship partners with said characteristics.

An older male whose opinion I respect enormously once told me that men prefer women who ‘can do stuff themselves, but occasionally ask them (the men) to do it, just so they feel they have some use’. Butt, and it’s a big one, think Beyonce-sized here, I have yet to find a man like that. In my experience, changing your own flat tyre, instead of playing the ‘maiden in distress’ makes you ‘one of the guys’ and not, as he stated, a valued equal partner. Having strong opinions, and voicing them, certainly hasn’t earned me any gold stars in the romance department, although it sure does make my friends debate-happy!

A female relative who has been living abroad for quite some time now, had cause to consider coming back recently, and stated quite seriously that the South African man was one of the main reasons she wouldn’t come back. We had a very interesting talk on the SA male mentality, and boys, it ain’t pleasant. I’ve had a lot of dealings with foreign men, and let me tell you, you got a lot of growing to do to get anywhere near the kind of respect most foreigners have for women. Please, please know that I am not saying this to get up anyone’s nose, I’m simply stating what I’ve experienced in ALL cases when comparing SA men to foreign men.

Which brings me to the next dilemma, is this a cultural thing, more prevalent in the country of my birth? To a large extent I think it is, especially when our possible next president is a man who believes that women ‘ask for sex when they wear short skirts’; have been charged with rape, and told the court that because she lay still instead of fighting while he had sex with her, he didn’t consider it rape, even though she said no; and sings a song called ‘bring me my machine gun’ which sends his disciples into a frenzy of joy, at political gatherings. If someone like that is an icon in this country, does it even make sense to expect more from the average South African man? Sadly, I am not sure.

So, let’s sum up my conclusions on the subject (please note that I am stating it as it is in my mind here, and not going for the PC terminology just now):

We are still living in a horrendously inequal world (not exactly news, but still);
Most men are, in essence, cowards;
Double standards are accepted without any questions asked, WHEN the standards are a male’s;
South African men are worse than average;
Most men view women as 2 dimensional, a physical being with the ability to “give” them children;
Most women accept this view readily, and play to it.

I have to mention here that I am no angel, I know that I am to some extent, anti-man, and that I tend to notice the negative in male behaviour waaaay more easily than the positive. But, know that what I base all of this on, is personal experience. The argument that we attract a certain ‘type’ is certainly always at the back of my mind, so, this might be the ‘type’ I attract, sure. But, I refuse to believe that, in all the places I have been, and the biggish city I live, I only meet and have dealings with this one specific type of male. All, and I mean all, the males I can in any way recall are, in differing degrees, essentially the same. Even the dealings with men that have relation to someone other than myself (eg. a female friend’s husband, boyfriend, whatever) have never disproved my theories. And, I’m sure there are men out there with the same opinions of women, so ignore me, disagree, whatever. As long as what I’m saying resonates somewhere, I don’t really give a shit.

And, people want me to still believe in ‘the one’. Yeah sure. There’s this one man out there who’s the opposite of all of this, uh huh, especially for me! I’m stating that HE does not, nor has he ever, existed. That the battle of the sexes is a waste of time, and that women will, till the end of time, be seen as the ‘inferior sex’ by a large chunk of the male populace, because it’s a hell of a lot easier than admitting that we are at worst, their equals, and in my opinion, far superior to this kind of man. I just don’t think that there’s a man out there, man enough, to know me, and still stick around long enough to earn my respect.

So, after all of this, are you out there Mr Miracle? The one who’s supposed to make me respect the male species. If you are, bring it, brother, I’m waiting. Well, are ya? Yeah, didn’t think so.

I rest my case.

PS: A few other usefull labels: bitch, man-hater, feminist, in case you weren't creative enough to think of any.

PPS: I was SO much nicer when I was still getting sex! No really!

Now I don’t wanna start any blasphemous rumours …..

I used to get preached at about that song in Sunday School, you know, satanistic and all. Recently, I’ve come to believe it is largely a true reflection of The Creator’s state of mind, at least some of the time. Sick sense of humour. Rather sadistic at times. The image I get is often that of a voodun sticking pins in a doll, grinning gleefully.

Thing is, I do believe in free will, but I also believe in destiny and karma. Which means that, no matter how hard you try, if what you’re trying to achieve is not what you planned in-between this life and the previous, honey, you ain’t getting’ there. Kinda like a salmon trying to get to it’s breeding ground via a huge dam wall. You can jump and jump and jump, in the end you’re pretty much killing yourself for shit.

Now, if the god/dess/spirit you believe in, is the vengeful, judgmental type, I’m guessing you’ll be ok with having a crappy life, cos that’s what you’d expect from these types, innit? But, if you’ve been led to believe in the sanctity and divinity of Love, and that it’s only love that gets you through, then, like me, you might have a hard time understanding what the fuck is going on.

According to the major principles of most of the mainstream religions on this rickety, wheezing planet of ours, what you give is what you get. Eg. go around killing people, by all accounts at some stage you should end up behind bars, taking it up the backside, and getting called beyotch. Same principle applies to the opposite, you try to live without harming anyone/thing, you should be getting back in kind, shouldn’t you? Only, in my case at least, that ain’t so. I would like to stress the fact that I am, in fact, not feeling sorry for myself, I am facing reality, not self-pity.

So, only counting life after leaving my parental home (cos the abuse there was not something I could in any way have caused and brought upon myself), my adult life has been pretty much …..sad. I started out enthusiastically and eagerly (like most of us do) believing in eternal love, and that there’s love out there for all of us. Cutting a long story short, love, I have not been able to find. Now, unless I have the most warped idea of love in the known universe, the fact that I've have been trying to live by the creed that giving love, should earn me some credits, right? Not so, I’m afraid.

So, the only conclusion I can possibly reach is that, in the haze of whatever I was inhaling in the In-Between, I, and whoever the fuck my mentor was, decided to make this life a “challenging one”. Which is more sad than I can even express. Living a life without love, to me, is worse than being denied food or water. It takes away my core, the ‘who-I-am’ part, without which I do not see any need for being here.

Which is why I think that whoever aided me in getting here, now, has the illest sense of humour I have ever had to deal with. Religion after religion spouts messages of love and happiness, preaching that this is what God, Allah (peace be upon him), the Buddah etc etc ad nauseum, wants for us. I’ve made my judgment call on this, don’t know about you, but I pretty much know where I stand.

Amazingly, there is still this minute part of me, that wants this not to be true. That goes against everything I have seen for the past 34 years. How stupid is that?

Anyway, to quote Depeche Mode again:

"I don’t want to start any blasphemous rumours
But I think that god’s got a sick sense of humor
And when I die I expect to find him (?) laughing"

What made me Smile Today ......

Finding an e-mail from a very dear ex-pat friend after four months of silence......

Symptoms of a Life Severely Out of Whack

Insomnia (or rather worse than usual, insomnia);
Waking up in excruciating pain due to a cramping neck;
Having to think good thoughts to keep a threatening asthma attack at bay in the middle of the night, after 12 years of being asthma free;
Not having slept for a new record of almost two weeks;
Having dead eyes, when they used to be described as ‘gleaming devilishly’;
Not being able to look at own toes due to a painfully stiff neck;
Bursting into tears without provocation;
Finding your face unusually line-free due to expressionlessness;
Wondering what on earth you were thinking when you bought sexy underwear six months ago (since no-one’s ever gonna see it);
Finding affectionate touch from people annoying, when you used to crave it;
Still going to sleep wishing that it’s the last time you ever have to close your eyes.

What made me laugh out loud today ......

Bestest Friend swearing he was getting me 'lots of sex with a very tall guy' for Christmas!

If you want Humour, I strongly suggest you MOVE ALONG SWIFTLY

I can’t explain it. I don’t know what causes it, so I can’t fix it. This terrible, terrible hurt that takes over me more and more regularly these days.

How do you fix a life? How do you fix a person? Can a person even be fixed, or do you pretend that the cracks and gaping holes make you ‘special’?

Lack of love, too much fear, too many assumption, lack of honesty, lack of respect, too much anger and aggression, I suppose I could go on and on about possible causes. Truth is, I do not know. Only thing I do know, is that on some level, I am dead. The will to go on, go out, go find something, someone, some love, no longer drives me. I am at a stand still. I am breathing, I am eating, I am working, I am sleeping, I am nurturing, but the part of me that had any kind of faith in the future of me, is dead.

I am mourning my passing, I cry at inappropriate times, for no conceivable reason. I become angry at light-heartedness, and I idly wonder when I got older than my parent, when I chide her for being silly. I watch my body act it’s biological age, and I get pissed off at it. It longs to fulfil the biological imperative, while the mind, heart and soul knows, this ain’t gonna happen. My body cries, bleeds, ovulates, lives, while the rest of me gets dragged behind, just passively wondering at body’s stupidity. It doesn’t know we’re dead. It thinks there’s still reason for survival, it wants to get up, fuel itself, live.

I feel disconnected, like a part of me is floating in that space we go, before shooting off into nothing, while the grounded, earthed part, is trying to drag me back down to earth. Dispassionately, I watch my own hands grabbing at me, and I wonder whether I should bother to pry them loose, or just wait until they give up on their own. Until body learns it’s over. And just lets go.

My opinion of why we’re here, is this – to love. Each other, other species, the Great Mother Earth, ourselves, life. So, if this is why I consider myself necessary, and there is no-thing that needs this from me, why am I still feeling coarse office carpet under my feet, why do my eyes open every morning, why do my ears hear birds, and cars, and the coffee percolating in the kitchen? Yes, I know. I am a mother, which means that I am needed by a child, but my son is ok, now. Even if I were to turn tail, and flee, he’d be ok, because he’s a beautiful being, he’d be good and fine. He’d hurt, for a while, until it faded, but my being or not being around, wouldn’t be the deciding factor in his life. He’s ok, he’d cope. I feel as if, that short, short space of time that a child needs a parent totally, has passed. He is fully formed, now. He is strong.

Now, the landscape around me is vast, and empty, and scary beyond reason. I am not brave enough to be here without loving someone. I am also not enough of a coward to throw myself away, and love someone just for the sake of existence. Being loved wholly, and loving wholly, is what makes me, and without it, I am nothing, have nothing, give nothing, take nothing. I need to love, as others need to belong to flocks. As long as I have my love, I’m ok, I am someone. Without it, I am a piece of space debris. Ugly, and ultimately destructive. I don’t want to be here anymore. Not like this, not at all. If I could think myself dead, I would have. If I could choose to close my eyes one night, and just … slip away, I would. But, every morning, I wake up, and I wait a moment, so my mind can believe that I’m still breathing, still seeing, still needing to get up. So it can realise I’m still alone, still lonely, still broken, still sad, sad, sad, still …. mostly dead, only, still bound.

Still here.

What Made Me Smile Today ......

The smell of Honeysuckle in a corporate garden ........

Going Overboard

G'day Boys and Girls.

Where to start.... where to start.....

I'm still not sure what I even want to type today, I know I need to vomit something out, cos it's all getting too much again, I just don't know what, and I'm scared if I just pick a random thread to pick at, it'll turn into a confusing mess.

I'm hurting, is probably a good start. There is not a part of my life at the moment that does not hurt in one way or the other. Exhausted and filled with actual, physical pain. My heart is heavy and sore, and it takes nothing at all to make me burst into tears. My mind is tired, I don't want to think anymore, my head hurts all the time. I look at myself in the mirror, and feel nothing. No pride, no love, no sympathy...... not a fucking thing. All I see is a sad, sad woman, regretting. I miss my son, miss him, miss him, miss him. But I know, even when he's back, he can't be big enough to fill the hole.

I look into tomorrow and all I see is an endless open space, with me the little dot trying to melt into the ether, to fly away, to drift into nothing. I want to become less solid, and then, disappear, like ice turned mist.

Don't wanna be here, don't wanna be here ever again. Wanna be gone, wanna be a memory. Cos a memory actually means something to someone, unlike my life now, to myself. I am meaningless, I am a waste of resources, I am the Universe being sentimental, and keeping something that's no longer needed.

In Case you hadn't Noticed

I'm taking a break. Fed up with myself.

Whatever.

Later.

The stuff of Legend

There’s the kind of dark, joyless, fearful, choice-less love you find in the sharing of blood and DNA with someone you wouldn’t know otherwise. The kind that rears up when you see the person in question and says: ‘Oh, I love him!’ And then subsides again. The kind that borders on distaste, disrespect and in earlier times, hate.

There’s the kind that consists mostly of fierce loyalty, like for treasured pets. That make you look at other people who ‘trade-in’ beloved Butch for a new, more Jonesy-model, and think: “What a clueless ass you are”, since they just don’t get the unconditionality of it all.

There’s the kind that you feel for a friend who, for a while, might have meant more, but never actually was more, that’s forever tainted with a resigned sadness.

The kind you feel for people who walk around with eyes like twin open wounds, that makes you want to run to them, and just take them away, cos you remember the taste of that fear.

The kind a child feels for a parent, total, selfish and one-dimensional. That sees you as a being made to love and raise them up, and chooses to not see the person inside.

There’s the kind you treasure for old friends, that makes you sigh when they talk about how they’re back with their ex (AGAIN), and listen anyway, and get ready to soothe the inevitable hurt, even though you know it’ll just happen again.

The kind of love you feel for your brave body, that nurtured and birthed, and gets up every day, and acts as a comforter for so many. And your brave mind and soul, that stood in the middle of years of abuse, sorrow and fear, and still came out mostly whole.

And then, the one kind I am unable to report on, the kind I used to think was the ultimate kind. Romantic love. A foolish, ingrained dream, a landscape that exists only in hungry minds. I’ve wanted to be loved in a passionate, feverish, possessive kind of way. Wholly, with no reserve, to give myself to someone. Which is impossible, because those shivers that run up and down the spine, dies down. And later on, the kisses do not make up for the broken promises. And, the endless talking, without meaning, drowns out any affection that was left. In short, the truth shines through. And, this love, as fleeting as melting ice cream, drips down to the ground and evaporates. Forever becomes a year, six years, twenty-four years, finite and sad. And infinitely false.

Love is different for all of us. There are those who believe they have the true version, and those like me, who no longer believe in that version. Love is subjective and conditional, contracted, “you do this for me, I do that for you”. The kind that binds in the forever kind of way, is not, never was, and never will be. The only true form of it, is the form that comes with clearly defined limits, borders. “How much of yourself are you willing to lay on the altar? That much? Ok, then I can give you fidelity, maybe. You give me that part there, too, and I’ll give you affection for the next 5 years.” I was a believer, a romantic, whatever you‘d call it. Then, I lived a while, and was enlightened. You show me a good marriage, I’ll show you a well-thought out, clearly defined role play. There’s no such thing as safety, no such thing as eternal, no such thing as True Love. There just ain’t. Pull on those Big-Girl-panties, and deal.

What I have to say Today

Stay in the rapids, then the adrenalin keeps the exhaustion at bay. Stay angry, stay fighting, then the sadness won’t wash over you like the slow, endless, moving beauty of the deep river.

Laugh, smile, joke, be loud, cos when you stop the tears start pushing, pushing, pushing, on the insides of your cheeks, pushing up, up, up, to reach the outside. Keep moving till the exhaustion makes you drop, cos if you lie down on your own, the dark swirls around you, and bleeds the whispers from your insides. And you have to listen, acknowledge the voices mirroring what you swallow every day, that the tears, the regret, the loneliness, can be kept inside, but never at bay. And that it will, never, never , ever, go away.

All Hallow's Eve

In South Africa, we do not celebrate All Hallow's Eve. According to Wicca and Pagan beliefs it is the one night of the year that the veil between the physical and spritual worlds are thinnest. I have always loved the idea of All Hallow's Eve, and on this day, I spend a little time acknowledging those around me I cannot see with physical eyes.

Today, I woke up with the image of swirling energies around me, like I was being surrounded and accompanied by Others.

So, just thought that I'd say hi there, and thanks. I appreciate the company, and thanks for the guidance and planning you guys send my way, although I generally don't realise it.

I give thanks to guides, and angels, and all Others (lost in this life, or not) who walk this road with me. Love and Light.

Indian Summer In The Head

Which seems to be what I'm having. I think I might be feeling the way people in institutions feel, once they've accepted the fact that they've lost society's plot and start having fun with the 'crazy'.

Feeling permanently upbeat (you know I have trouble typing that, scared it might get frightened and go away), is kinda nice. Not being cheerful by nature ( I'm a 'half empty' kinda gal) this is a pleasant diversion.

People tend to be drawn to me much more when I hum while hopping down the stairs, or take in a ninja stance when they approach (with appropriate haia sounds), than the usual smile-without-the-eyes face I have. Why, in the last week I've re-established contact with 2 long lost friends, and they didn't even know about the Indian Summer In The Head! Plus, I've gained a new friend, without doing anything more than e-mailing a joke to another friend.

So, I've decided I like this! Being cheerful is apparently, a look that works for me. Plus, the longer you actually maintain it, the easier it gets. Bonus!

Doesn't do much for the over stressed hormones, but meh...... I can handle that! (Said with hand tapping furiously on wooden table and crazy, shifty eyes!)

Um...........so.... aaaaaaannyway

I was lying in bed last night, enjoying my usual insomnia, when I fell on a subject I haven't worried to death for a while now.

Lack of Sex. Or, the lack of any kind of sexual conduct.

Now, I believe, that in order to be a fulfilled human bean/being/whatever, I need to embrace all the aspects that make me ... well... me. Which includes the sad, oh, so very sad, severely underutilised sexual, sensual side.

Sadly, oh, so very sadly, my physical experience has been very limited. I'm saying sadly, because I've always felt that I have to supress my sensual side, for the sake of my puritanical upbringing, which dictates that I owe society the debt of being 'a good girl'. I've always had the suspicion that my hormones' reaction to this has been 'good gal, good gal? I spit on good gal...pah! pah! (Sound of spitting on sidewalk, while thumbing nose)!' The current state of affairs (pun intended) does not sit very comfortably on my primly clad shoulders.

Thing is, being a Gemini, with the duality and all, I think that had I been born a few years later, and brought up in a different household, I might have turned out to be a .... well, skank, not to put too fine a point on it. Now, this observation is based on the level of hormonal discomfort experienced during my lenghthy (sigh, gawd damn it, SIGH) "dry" spells.

So, in my eternal search for balance, I have been unable to find even a semblance of resolution to this touchy subject (again, pun intended). I mean, if you knew what went on in my brain - OMG, sometimes I scare myself! A good scared, though, verrrrry veryyyy gooooooodd, anyway, I'm gettin distracted.

I find myself unable to toss off (yep, did it again!) the mantle of years and years' ingrained training, and just (as many of my male friends suggest) go ahead and shag someone, already. With no thought of consequences, shameful feelings, or morals. No can do, buddy. I gotta look myself in the mirror tomarra.

Feelings inevitably enter the scene (and yes, aint' that just typical of the female psyche!), and with me apparently being destined to become some small town's resident cat lady, that poses a problem of GIGANTIC proportions.

So, to bring this 360º, sleepless nights I have no problem with, I mean, that just comes (I wish) naturally to me these days, but I dearly wish the reason I lay burning in my bed was not solely due to the season.

So.......aaaaaaaannnnyway, hopefully I'll have sex again before I spontaneously combust, or dry up. (Please, please, pretty please, with cherry and all!).

Newsflash

You know what? Today, I’m feeling kinda upbeat.

Now, people who read this regularly will be able to bear witness to the fact that this is not a very familiar feeling for me. It’s kinda like a racy, lacy bra - really really pretty, but it chafes the crap out of you, and leaves that gross red stripe when it’s gone.

Anyway, my point is, I don’t know why, but I am feelin’ fine.

Ya gots 2 hav sum rulz!!!

She said a good day
ain’t got no rain
She said a bad day’s
when I lie in bed and think of things
that might have been.

Slip slidin’ away – Paul Simon

You know, according to the rules of the Universe, as I see them, what you ask for, you get – in some form or another.
I asked for my ex, I got him,
I asked for a child, I got him, (for the further purposes of this blog, he’s the one GOOD thing I asked for, and got)
I asked for a Native American – I got him (granted, he was Native Canadian – but it was close enough)
I asked for the Alchie (by name) I got him, (before I knew about the drinking problem – jeesh!)
I asked for the Honey (by name), I got him, (again, be careful what you wish for Silly Sylphi Cow)

So – let’s analyse the pattern here, when I ask for people I think would be good for me in relationships, I get them. (The fact that I am usually off by continents, nevermind miles, is to be ignored for now.) But, when I ask for circumstances that I think would be good for me, I don’t. Eg, I asked to emigrate, got as far as a scheduled interview, and no further. I asked for abundance in my finances – boy did I not get that! I asked for a home of our own, I’m still trekking my plants in pots every time we move from rental to rental. I’ve asked for the means to afford a new, reliable car, since the one I have (faithful as she is) won’t last forever, and guess what? I have learned that I am not going to be given these things on a platter, I have to take the first few (hundred) steps, and I’m down with that. I will walk off the bloody edge of the earth, if I knew that on the other side the means to a better life would be mine. It just seems that, no matter how motivated or enthusiastic I am, it don’t work. I mean, I know that the BB’s won’t give me a higher-paying job, they will create the opportunity for me to find a higher paying job, that’s the way it works. But, unless I am totally blind, deaf and dumb, I just ain’t getting no opportunities. No signs, no signals, no calls, no interesting chats – in short, fuck-all.

So, my question is, is everything I have ever learned and believed – wrong? I already know that the values I were brought up with, were up the creek, but since then, I’ve learned and believed other values and principles. Which now, is also proving a tad unreliable. I just don’t know what to believe anymore.

I mean, do I keep on blindly asking for support, and asking and asking and asking – while turning my head from the proof that my “prayers” are going unanswered? Or, do I stop believing altogether, and just plod on, with no stars to steer by? Pretty bleak, that.

See, I just don’t know.

I just don’t know.

It was black and whispery like the rain .......

I was bruised and battered and I couldn't tell
what I felt
I was unrecognisable to myself
I saw my own reflection in a window, I didn't know
my own face
Oh Brother are you gonna leave me
wastin' away
on the streets of Philadelphia?

I walked the avenue till my legs felt like stone
I heard the voices of friends vanished and gone
at night I could hear the blood in my veins
it was black and whispery as the rain
on the streets of Philadelphia

Ain’t no angel gonna greet me
It’s just you and I, my friend
And my clothes don’t fit me no more
I walked a thousand miles
Just to slip this skin

The night has fallen, I’m lyin awake
I can feel myself fading away
So, receive me brother, with your faithless kiss
Or will we leave each other, alone like this?
On the streets of Philadelphia….

Bruce Springsteen

A picture is worth a Thousand Words

The Artist formerly known as Chief Advisor

Has been let go. After a lifetime of sharing (as much as I can, which is probably about 75%) of my confidences with CA, we had a very interesting impromptu “You wanna know something funny? I find you hard to love” kind of heart-to-heart. This was prompted by a remark from my side ……….. You had to be there, but,

Here’s how it went down:

Sylphi: “I always get the feeling I’m bothering him when I ask him to help me out with something.”
Chief Advisor: “Maybe it’s because he thinks you’re as untidy and disorganised in your workplace as you are at home.”
Sylphi: ?
Chief Advisor: “You know, like how people don’t want to come visit you at home…..?”
(Aside: NO idea what she’s talking about here)
Sylphi: “OUCH! What the hell? Who doesn’t want to come visit me?”
Chief Advisor: “ I’m just talking in general here, no specifically about you!”
Sylphi: “But this whole discussion is about me!”
(Upon which it all goes pear-shaped rather rapidly, and ends with me in tears, and still no clue.)
Fast Forward to next day
Chief Advisor: “I am SO sorry I tried to give you advice. Just stop me if I ever try to give you advice again!”
Sylphi: “Advice? That is so not the problem, I don’t want advice from you, I want your support, and just to know that you have my back. And by the way, why is it that everyone else in your life gets showered with affection, but I don’t?”
Chief Advisor: “It’s cos you are really difficult to love, and cos you don’t ask for affection, so I won’t give you any if you don’t ask.”

Which pretty much ended it for me, right there. I am of the opinion that love is something you give someone because of the way YOU feel about them, and not cos they asked you for it. Besides, it’s a sad world indeed when children have to start begging for affection from their parents. I pray I never get so disconnected that I tell my son something like that.

So, that’s that, then. We talk, like “do you need help with dinner?” etc, but I decided that, if my trying to be her child makes her feel she has to work at loving me, I’d rather treat her like a housemate. Friendly, but distant, I’m keeping my distance, and so is she. I sure hope it makes things easier for her. Live and learn heh? Live and learn.

Nuffin to say

There. Just in case someone was wonderin'.
Maybe later.

I'm trying ..............

Thing is, I don’t really know how to describe the way I feel lately. I know what it feels like to be in ‘holding pattern’ – this ain’t it. I know what despairing feels like – this ain’t it. I know what numbness feels like – this ain’t it. I know what anticipation feels like – this ain’t it.

You think a puddle of mercury can have ripples? I feel like a puddle of mercury. Heavy and quiet.

And like the only thing that can disturb me, is my own impatience. Everywhere I turn for advice, signs, whatever, I get: “Be patient”. Fuckit. This is not one of my character strengths. I can be patient, but Geasus, it takes so LONG. I feel like I’m perpetually sitting with my foot tapping under the table, shifting position, then facing the window, then the aisle, muttering under my breath, “I can be patient, I can be patient, I can be….. FAAAAAAARK….. I can be patient, I can be ………………… Geasus, Mary and Josephus, I can be fuckin’ PATIENT…………..

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!

(That last bit was me running away screaming.)

Dog Dreams

Just had to write this one down! I was on the back of a bakkie (pick-up, in US talk), with a few other unidentified individuals, driving around, when we stopped on a farm, two oldish (gentle)men (looking kinda trailer-park-ish, if we're staying with the American theme) stepped out from somewhere, accompanied by a HUGE brown dog. Huge, as in, face-level with me, sitting on the back of the bakkie, huge.

And, boy, was it ever pissed! Growling, foaming at the mouth, looking and sounding extremely threatening. I'm not sure what it did to justify my behaviour, but, still sitting on the bakkie, I gave the dog a 'snot klap', which is a very scientific term for a very hard slap, on the nose. Next thing, the giant dog turns it's furious I-will-swallow-you-whole face, into a puppy face, and decides that it adores me. So, I jump off the bakkie, and the dog immediately attaches it to my side, where it stays as I stroll around, my hand on it's head, which reaches my shoulder. (Like I said - BIG DOG). It is affectionate and sweet and loving to me, and the 2 guys it belonged to, are simply amazed. I, on the other hand, love the dog right back, and it's like we've been together forever. We proceed to explore the abosolutely beautiful jungle-like forest on the farm together. Hand on head. Connected by more than just the physical.

Nice dream, if a little strange.

Yay!

Whoohoo! My CV has just been sent to far and distant shores! I am very excited. First concrete step on a new road. Wish me luck!!!!!!

Sickening, I know .......

Sometimes, I even make myself nauseous with the whole "putting a positive spin on things". But, lo and behold, it's happened again!

Once again, survival (or maybe the part that's from Planet Whack) has kicked in, and this is what's been happening after the whole ‘son-going-to-live-with-fother’ ordeal - Still have that empty feeling, but it's actually not that bad, once you get used to not having a set of directions to work with. As a matter of fact, it's kinda exhilarating. I feel like a kid. I feel lighter than I remember feeling for years. I laugh, I smile, I tease (no, not THAT kind of teasing, you idjut, the innocent type!)

I actually smiled at 2 strange men without having a valid reason to. S’true! I do not do that! Ever! Too worried that it might be misconstrued. I actually look at men, without being worried there might be consequences. Which may sounds just a tad paranoid, but hey, some guys think a smile is an invite to bend you over a table, you know!

Might’ve mentioned this before, but I am totally off the wall crazy unreasonable when it comes to men, and I think that a big part of that, comes from having to be responsible for both myself, and my son, so any man that features in my life, has to be suitable for him, too. And, when it comes to my son’s happiness, nobody’s good enough. So, having the opportunity to contemplate spending time with someone because I want to, is a great treat. Even though I have no reason to be happy about this yet, I’m savouring the thought like home-made sticky caramel ice cream.

Amazingly, I am no longer afraid of the possibility of spending time with someone. And I can’t quite remember why I was so scared in the first place. Same goes for being alone. Peace has arrived in the midst of the emptiness, and I like it.

The Empty I

I have known for years that I base my self-worth on whether I am needed. Probably a side-effect from having to care for a disabled brother from the age of 4, and then adding a baby brother to that, after 11 years. Even my older sister conveniently shifted responsibility for a few years. Then, caring for my mother after her divorce, then my ex husband, then my son. There has always been someone I had to hold together, which, in turn, taught me to hold it together, no matter what.

Now, for the first time in my life, after 34 years, I have no one who needs me.

I have no words to express how this has affected me. Not only has my whole tower collapsed, but I feel empty, hollow, and dead inside. No purpose, no-one to turn to. Being the one who carries others has been 'my thing'. I was good at it. I know how to love, I know how to be the strong one. Now, I feel useless, lost, like I no longer have the right to breathe, take up space, like the resources I still use to stay alive, should go to someone who actually contributes something, not to me.

What's left inside to make me mean something? Haven't found anything, yet. I have questioned my waking up every morning to the Ones Upstairs, but I still wake up every morning, so, apparently I still have to be here. I just don't know why.

Feels like I've finished everything I should have for now, and there's no reason for me anymore. I don't want to be here anymore. I'm tired and confused. The Empty I is all that is, and it has no right to be.

Canonball - Damien Rice

Still a little bit of your taste in my mouth
Still a little bit of you laced with my doubt
Still a little hard to say what's going on

Still a little bit of your ghost, your witness
Still a little bit of your face I haven't kissed
You step a little closer each day
Still I can't say what's going on

Stones taught me to fly
Love taught me to lie
Life taught me to die
So it's not hard to fall
When you float like a Cannonball

Still a little bit of your song in my ear
Still a little bit of your words I long to hear
You step a little closer to me
So close that I can't see what's going on

Stones taught me to fly
Love taught me to lie
Life taught me to die
So it's not hard to fall
When you float like a Cannonball

Stones taught me to fly
Love taught me to cry
So come on courage!
Teach ne to be shy
'cause it's not hard to fall
and I don't wanna scare her
It's not hard to fall
And I don't wanna lose
It's not hard to grow
When you know that you just don't know.....

Hey, check it out you Guys! I’m on a roll!!

I am having the most amazing run of tragedy. I’m telling you, this has to be a new record, even for me! In the past 3 weeks:

1)My finances suck donkey ear (longer than 3 weeks, but let’s move along swiftly).
2)My lovelife has been buried.
3)My fridge caught fridge flu, died, can’t be fixed (see 1).
4)My car got broken into (fourth time in 2 years), lock broken, can’t be fixed (see 1).
5)My one and only pair of decent shades, now shield the eyes of a “less fortunate” criminal.

And, tah-dah –

6)The clincher of the decade: My baby, the reason I breathe, has been convinced (by his ***** of a father) that he wants to go live with them. Not exactly a monumental feat when you have to convince a 6-year old!

And, guess what, The Fother and wife #2, have made this ‘deal’ with my Baby, without ANY discussions between us ‘responsible’ adults. How brilliant is that?

I won’t stop him, I adore my son, and I realise that he needs his father too, but my mind refuses to go to a place where he is not with me every day, so I’m not thinking about that, I’m convinced my chest will immediately seize allowing air in and out of it, if I did. BUT, and this is one HUGE BUT. He has ADHD, (like the Fother) and consequently, in my house, we kinda work with that as starting point. No white bread, no carbonised cold drinks, lots of fruit and veggies, if he has to have sweets, no red colouring, or sweets with less sugar than most, jellies ets. He takes a supplement that has had good results in kids with ADHD. Take-aways only on special occasions. Milk from growth-hormone free cows. I try to keep him away from the tv as much as possible, we read together, we buy kids mags to stimulate his mind. Have him run around outside so he actually sleeps. Very little red meat, rather fish & chicken. Stuff like that.

The Fother (although I have had numerous discussions wit him about this), feeds him processed meats, ONLY white bread, ONLY red meat, for school lunches he gets a store bought meat pie, if he’s lucky. He has chips, cold drinks and watches DVD’s until he worries about getting square eyes (which is what happens when you watch too much tv, in case you didn’t know). Their teenage daughter tells him monster stories, and about sex. They teach him (OMG I HATE this) “BOYS DON’T CRY”, and that he needs to be a clown to get attention, cause the Fother cannot concentrate on his son for anything longer than 5 minutes at a time. Drinking is ‘normal’ in the house, and their social circle.

You know what? I am amazed that I am still able to use my brain in a rational manner, I am exhausted. Feels like I’m on a hitlist, and I’m just postponing the inevitable by trying to breathe. I am tired of keeping heartbreak at bay. Tired. Bring it on already, get it over with. The sooner I break, the sooner I get to see what’s left.

Open Letter to the Honey

Ok, Sweetie, I know, I’m slow sometimes. And, I told you that I can be a total airhead sometimes. But, the penny’s finally dropped.

You used me. And, I was amazed, seriously. I think this caught me off-guard so much because I have always thought of you as someone who would make the choice not to, if given the chance. Now, I am not laying even close to all the blame at your feet, I am the one who started this, and I am the one who basically begged you, to do with me as you wish. I gave you my trust right from the start, without even considering the fact that you might not be the knight I made you out to be.

The thing I’m not sure of is this: Was I a way to make her jealous? Was I a little entertainment while you waited for her to come crawling back? Or was I just a diversion from your usual routine? I suppose it doesn’t really matter.

And, one thing I wanted to let you know: when I offered you my friendship, and you let me know that you were now in a relationship that’s exclusive, and friendship wouldn’t “be possible”, I was actually offering you my friendship, not a constant supply of blow jobs on the side. Like, MY idea of friendship, not yours, which is a little screwey. You might need to get over yourself a little there.

So, to sum up, I’m wrapping this up as a one-night stand with a few very nice dinners, and quiet evenings with pleasant company. Another lesson learned, I suppose. Please understand that I am not angry at you, this was more my responsibility than it was ever yours. It’s just that losing someone off my ‘beautiful people list’ comes as a bit of a shock to the system. And, you took that tumble. Maybe after all these years, it was time.

I am taking my lesson like a good girl, stop putting people on pedestals, and conjuring characteristics out of thin air. We are all, in the end, beautiful, but our choices may not always be. I’m happy for you, and I hope that your exclusive relationship is exactly what you asked for. Which is what we get anyway, exactly what we ask for, I asked for you, and that’s what I got. The real you, not the one in my mind. And you are truly beautiful Sweets, beautiful and human, just like me.

I wish you love and happiness.

Sylphi

PS. Reading this, it sounds like I'm bitter, I know. I'm not, I swear. You surprised me, and showed me a lot of things I needed to be reminded of. You shook me out of my hibernation. Which I appreciate more than you'll ever know. This was a good thing. Surprising, but good.

Feck you, & feck you, & you, & you, oh & you too ..........

You know, I think the Blogger fairies really like feckin with me. That, or I have some very determined and technologically influential angels. Cos, whenever I want to blog something negative, and emotional, it gets eaten by the Blog Monster. And, I’m only allowed to publish a blog once I’ve somehow turned a negative into a positive.

(Be warned: This is where it takes a dive down to Hades)

Which is kinda making it hard to get any blogs published this week. And I know, this is a good thing, and I need to ‘transform’ the agonising, mind-numbing pain into a nice, neat, “This is why I am now a better person” essay. Only you know what, even typing that sentence pisses me off so badly, I feel like smashing my (the boss’) keyboard down on my hand repeatedly, then kicking in my solid wooden desk, or break my foot, which I’d say is a more viable option, before taking a flying leap out the second floor window across the hall. Don’t worry, it’s not that high, it probably won’t be suicide, just mangling myself enough to take the edge off. That will, or running into the parking garage face brick wall repeatedly will, after I regain consciousness.

I am angry, and sad, and I feel as if I’ve lost the only man I’ve ever really felt I could have the relationship I want, with. That, plus the fact that I STILL don’t really know WHY, PISSES ME OFFFFFFFF! I MEAN, USUALLY MY INSTINCTS ARE PRETTY SHARP, BUT WITH HONEY, NOTHIN’! I ACTUALLY THOUGHT HE GAVE A FLYIN FECK. HE WAS THAT GOOD. AND YES, I AM SCREAMING!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Now, spiritually speaking, (and you just know this is gonna be as insubstantial as g0d-damned trying to eat mist) if we are not together, it means that we’re not supposed to be together, and FECK how I feel about it. I should LET IT GO, and MOVE ON. LET THE UNIVERSE TAKE CARE OF IT. ACKNOWLEDGE THE FEELINGS, AND SET THEM FREEEEE…… Even Baby Bro (the ever-practical, correctly-wired, and well-earthed one in the family) feels that “all these disappointments are only leading up to the Perfect ONE”. Ja, and feck you too, Bro. We’ll discuss this again when you’re my age, and you’ve had a few more ‘disappointments’ pound out their fave songs on your heart with a meat cleaver. I mean, I adore you all, I do. But Jesus H Chris, this is NOT WHAT I WANT, and THAT should count for something. I DON’T WANT TO FEEL LIKE IT’LL BE MORE MERCIFUL TO RIP MY OWN HEART OUT, AND OFFER IT TO THAT LIZARDY AZTECH GOD-THING QUETZL-SOMETHING. I DON’T WANT TO CONTINUALLY SWALLOW BACK TEARS AND SNOT BECAUSE I’M SAD, AND I SHOULDN'T BE!!!!!!!!!! I DON’T WANT TO SPEND MY DAYS AND NIGHTS WANTING SOMEONE THAT I CAN’T HAVE. ………….. AG WHATEVER, this is pointless.

And if this motherfecker don’t publish………………..

Oscar in Trash Can Land

When I was small, forever and ever ago, I used to watch a program on SA’s then (and now) very limited broadcasting system, called “Oscar in Asblikland”. Oscar was a hand puppet more or less resembling a very spastic bunny, who inhabited Asblikland, or Trash Can Land. Now Oscar was a very sweet, if a little airheaded bunny, very content in Trash Can Land, 'cept for the times his arch nemesis, Knersus, tried to eat him. Knersus was a Pteradactyl (or whatever the most recent archeological name is for a flying dinosaur) with dentures. He had about 5 or more pairs of dentures, and these he used to keep hanging on a clothes line. Freaky thing is, the sets of teeth would chat to each other in different voices, mostly about the next plot to masticate Oscar.

Now, I can’t exactly recall how old I was, but it was probably around 7 or so, and believe you me, NUFFING in my life has ever freaked me out as badly as those teeth, and Knersus, staggering around kinda drunkenly, shouting "Waar's daai Hasie?!" ("Where's that bunny?!") . I very vividly remember hiding behind the nearest couch, or getting that ass-tingling feeling you get when you are hauling it as fast as you can, with your older sister on your tail intent on pounding you to a pulp. Knersus freaked me out, and I’m willing to lay down good money, if I ever saw that program again, I’d end up with my ass sticking out from behind the nearest solid object. Some things just scar a kid for life, like talking dino-dentures on a clothes line. Man!

Goodbye Yellow Brick Road

When are you gonna come down
When are you going to land
I should have stayed on the farm
I should have listened to my old man

You know you can't hold me forever
I didn't sign up with you
I'm not a present for your friends to open
This boy's too young to be singing the blues

So goodbye yellow brick road
Where the dogs of society howl
You can't plant me in your penthouse
I'm going back to my plough

Back to the howling old owl in the woods
Hunting the horny back toad
Oh I've finally decided my future lies
Beyond the yellow brick road

What do you think you'll do then
I bet that'll shoot down your plane
It'll take you a couple of vodka and tonics
To set you on your feet again

Maybe you'll get a replacement
There's plenty like me to be found
Mongrels who ain't got a penny
Sniffing for tidbits like you on the ground

Elton John

Asked for a song for the day, this is what I got. Not so sure myself, actually! But interesting, no?

This Too Shall Pass.......

I am better. Not sure how stabile the being-better is, but I'm better.

Yesterday's mantra actually helps. It doesn't take away the missing and the feeling of love lost. But it does help to accept that this had to happen, that it happened the way it was supposed to, and that I will eventually find it's place in the map of my life, and that it will belong there.

So, for today, I'm doing the grateful-thing, grateful for in some small measure, being able to process this.

Mantra for the Day

There’s no such thing as a wrong decision. Everything happens at it’s appointed time.
There’s no such thing as a wrong decision. Everything happens at it’s appointed time.
There’s no such thing as a wrong decision. Everything happens at it’s appointed time.
There’s no such thing as a wrong decision. Everything happens at it’s appointed time.
There’s no such thing as a wrong decision. Everything happens at it’s appointed time.
There’s no such thing as a wrong decision. Everything happens at it’s appointed time.
There’s no such thing as a wrong decision. Everything happens at it’s appointed time.
There’s no such thing as a wrong decision. Everything happens at it’s appointed time.

Skip this one ........

.... if you're tired of emotional, whiney blogs, ok?

This may come as a shock to you, but I am having trouble dealing. No seriously, taking it a wee bit hard. So, if you’re getting a bit fed up with my whining, guess what? Fuck you! I’m having a hard time here, and this (I’m hoping) will help me deal.

Here’s the deal: I've finally been with someone I want to be with, for the remainder of my life with. Which I was SO not planning. I was planning on being a hard-assed “I-can-do-this-on-my-own” type, and end up alone, with my son visiting me when his laundry basket was full. Cos, there was just no-one around I wanted in my life that badly.

Then, someone I’d been thinking about periodically for about 18 years, cos of things that I did in school, started showing up on my radar, and gradually bleeped more and more loudly. So much so, that I started looking for him. In the end, he found me, and we went out. Now, before this happened, I spent a good few months preparing myself for love (I won’t go into an explanation, too new-agey, and too personal). Plus, I was looking for signs, which I got, everywhere – Venus being the brightest star in the sky for the first time in years and years, Angel Cards telling me that romance would show up, etc etc. So, I was totally ready for him to be the love of my life. I knew after the first awkward picnic that I wanted to be with him. He told me from the start that he wasn’t willing to rush into something, but at the same time, would continually push at my ‘friend’ boundaries, so I was never sure what exactly was going on. He kept telling me that his relationships would ‘super-nova’, and he didn’t want that anymore. Some stuff happened that he was sorry about, while I wasn’t, which kinda blew the whole ‘friend’ theory out of the water. Then, he backed off, really, really fast, and despite swearing that he’d be honest, I was the one who forced The Conversation. He’d decided that things were too complicated. Now, although I don’t know what that means, I respect that he feels that way. But to me, this was one of the simplest relationships of my life ….. I wanted to be with him, and thought he wanted the same. Simple’s that. I tried to make contact with him twice after The Conversation, but pretty much got deflected right away.

So, here’s where I’m at. I am obsessing about him, but at the same time, it’s like the part of me looking for a romantic companion, that leapt to the front, has sunk back into myself. Like, I no longer care whether this happens for me, or not. Used to be that I constantly fought my being alone, it was just not right. That’s gone now. I don’t care anymore. He did show me that I could survive showing my vulnerable side to someone, have it stomped on, and still appreciate having done it. That the affection and caring is worth it. That love is a good thing, even if it hurts. I plan on starting to do stuff for myself again, to at least fake a life, as soon as I have my finances back on track. But, I miss him, after everything is said and done each day, it’s him my mind turns to.

The Universe, the Beautiful Beloved Ones, have been summoned for explanations, and I have asked for the missing and obsessing to be blocked. For a shield I put up between us, to be made strong and carried by Them, if it’s supposed to be there. I’ve cut the metaphoric ties, yet, he’s not going away. Everywhere I see and hear and taste reminders. I’ve told the Beloved a few times to please stop being cruel. They have a bizarre sense of humour. Constantly seeing little signs of him everywhere, feels like having my nose repeatedly coming into violent contact with the heel of a very large hand. Stopping the bleeding, then doing it again. Fuuuuuuunnn!!!!!!!

I’m lost, sometimes I actually manage to go numb, sometimes I actually laugh (and think to myself, “that sounds hollow”), and then some little sign that brings him again, arrives.

If we are done, I need to be done, too. If we’re not done, I need to know that, too. I can’t stay here, I can’t. It doesn’t fit, and I’m afraid if I stay, I might disappear, like a ghost in the mist.

Beloved Beings, this is me, trying to find some sanity in all this. I feel like a ancient, aching robot, I can function, I can talk, smile, eat, read stories. I need you guys to help me live, I need this sorted, please. Throw me a rope, please, help help help help help help help help.

The Meaning of the Word Obsession

Lying awake thinking of him, dreaming of him when you fall asleep, waking up between dreams, thinking of him, reminding yourself that he’s probably making love to someone else at that precise moment, getting up, thinking of him.
Spending the day alternating praying he contacts you, and telling yourself to ‘get a life, he won’t’.
Not understanding why he doesn’t feel your whole being screaming for him across the ether. Not understanding how he can not feel the same.
Losing more weight in a 3 week period than in a year of work-outs, cos the smell of food makes you nauseous. Drinking too much coffee to fill the gap left by not eating, shaking before you overload of coffee, shaking more after you overload on coffee.
Forgetting your words cos you’re thinking of him while trying to have a conversation with someone else.
Not being able to listen to your CD’s, cos you shared them with him. Not being able to pet your dogs without thinking of him, cos he liked them, too. Not being able to cook certain dishes, cos you make them for him.
Not being able to light candles, cos fire makes you think of him.
Seeing cars that could potentially be him, everywhere.
Giving up on the idea of having anyone in your life, cos if it’s not him, it can’t be someone else.
Having a cold spot between your shoulder blades, that just does not heat up. Hurting all the time.
Telling yourself to move on, and start living again, while praying to die.

Oh god It's Friday!

Fr!end (don't ask), wants to know what I'll be doing this weekend. So, here's what I got so far: spend as much time doing ANYTHING but thinking, and includes watching movies I wanna see, movies I don't wanna see, movies I've seen, and hopefully falling asleep during one.

I've realised that it's over (yay for me!), and that it's really over (yay for me!), and that I'm not gonna see him, or have contact with him. That doesn't stop me from waiting for the phone to ring, or the cars passing by our house to stop, or, when I turn on my phone in the mornings, to wait for the sms to come through. I know, pathetic, weak, stooooooopid!

I know. Can't help it though. I was wrong about him caring, yes. I was wrong about a lot of things, but that doesn't change how I feel. Doesn't change that I want to be with him, and doesn't stop me from thinking, and getting sad. So, the plan is to distract myself, see? Disctract myself to sleep, and then distract myself some more when I wake up. Lame plan, but the only one I got.

For Today .......

I thought for today that I’d try to give the whole ‘god, I am SO SAD!’ routine a rest (even though it still creeps up on me every day, like a literal 5-o-clock shadow, just in time for the evening, lots of time to cry, you see – but I digress). So I’ma try a different take on it:

On the way to Misha’s school, we drive past a lane of Wild Pear Trees, the first SA trees to blossom each year. I think, in Venda, they’re named “Announcers of the Spring”, isn’t that beautiful? Bunches of off-white flowers hang from heavy branches. They’ve been flowering for a few weeks now, and smell of honey in the afternoon sun.

I also noticed this morning that the Coral Trees are flowering, gorgeous scarlet that always reminds me of my grandfather for some reason, a good thing.

Even being sad, in it’s way, is a positive sign, it means that I am actually braver than I gave myself credit for. Even though I’d convinced myself that falling in love/ caring for someone, was a bad idea, I went ahead and risked it. And, I really am thankful for the time I shared with the Honey, it’s opened a portal to the idea that there's actually men out there my heart likes, and that means that my life holds possibilities again. I may slowly be changing my mind about men being the root of all evil. Which in itself, is a miracle.

I live in a country where Life is everywhere. A lifetime ago, I spent a month in the First-Worldedness that is Canada, as a kind of test to see whether I’d relocate there. The answer: HELL, NO! Here, kids dance on garbage heaps, dogs play even though they’re starving, people laugh out loud, and everywhere you look, something is ALIVE! Smiling at a child means that you get a smile back, or even a little hand reaching out for a touch, a shy giggle from behind mom, or a terrified screech and tears. Over there, kids hid from smiles with passive, adult faces; people enquired whether I was ok when I laughed too loud; and the only things warm were the heated malls and enclosed pedestrian bridges. The people were dead, their minds where alive, and so sorry for the poor Africans, but the rest … cold and frozen.

Love surrounds me, although I very often fail to see what’s in front of me. I have a boy who whispers: “My Mamma”, before he kisses and hugs me. Who burrows into my side as we watch the world’s tragedies flash past on the tv.

Yes, I have lost people and parts of myself on the way here. But that pillar that I see at the core of the people in my life I admire; that pillar is part of me too, and it’s still there. It’s strong, and bright, and eternal. The sadness, tears, everything I’ve lost, that’s all transient, loose, replaceable. Maybe I should just take it as it is, like the touch from a smiling child in a supermarket, hug it to myself for a moment, and then let it go.

He thought I was Dreaming, but all I was, was Cold

I see your lips moving, but ......

.... all I hear is white noise.

Not sure whether this is something that happens to everybody, but I have days when it seems I am moving in slow motion, while the rest of the world rushes by. It's like my mind, body and spirit has conspired to just ....cut me off. I hear people talking, I see people move, and I just don't take any of it in. Everything seems far away, like it has absolutley no bearing on me at all.

If I have to describe the feeling, it's like in those documentaries when they film someone standing in a crowd, and then edit it so it looks like the crowd is scuttling by, and this person is standing still for hours and hours.

Don't know why this happens, maybe I just get so tired, that this is a way to let myself recharge, or maybe something has subconsciousnly been so traumatic that I shut down to deal with it.

Whatever it is, feels like I'm working off-line today. I am numb.

Dead Frog on the Back Doorstep!

Or: Defunct Joy in the Past.

I am currently on a quest to find Joy. No, not the person Joy, the feeling that makes you gasp, and laugh out loud, and jump.... that kind of Joy. So, last night, I shared with Chief Advisor, that according to Google, Frogs are one of the symbols commonly used for Joy. So, guess what's waiting for me as I open up the back door to let the slightly hysterical doggies in this morning?

If you guessed anything but a dead frog, reread the damn title, will ya? So, yes, a beautiful, perfectly preserved, little dried out frog. I took this as a sign that the Universe heard the announcement of my Quest, and was just letting me know that ok, we're up for this one, or somethin. No, Chief Advisor takes it a mile or so further, and speculates that this is a sign that we need to get some live frogs through the front door, or bring some joy back into the present.

Now, this may sound a little freaky, but we actually had about 4 froggies living in the house with us, during summer. Cos, we watch tv with the house lights off, and since we live outside the city, we've got shitloads of bugs, right? Buggies that like the light from the tv, and when they go all trancey and fall down after trying to fly into the screen, the froggies are there, on the floor, in front of the tv, like crocs in a moat. So, they liked our tv, and we liked them eatin bugs. Worked out well.

As they sleep all winter, the frogs have left, but I've been thinking that they'd be back in summer. So, according to CA, we'd better get them to move back in through the front door, eh? Here's to hopin that Joy's gonna start hoppin through the front door pretty soon then.

What I Am (Part 2)

A very serious one, that at the same time makes me strong, and very very weak:

I am Hopeful, something I have regretted more often, than been thankful for. Hope is good, yes, but having your hopes dashed, fucking hurts, even on a good day.

You’d think growing up the way I did, and my life so far would teach me that Hope equals setting yourself up for a swift kick in the backside, but nah ah, I still catch myself looking for that sign that things are not as bad as they seem.

Go figure.

Where I Stand

So, after a weekend of serious introspection, this is what I’ve come up with:
I have been, still am, in hibernation. I decided after a disastrous attempt at love a few years back, that storing myself away, would be safer. So, I put the bits of me that could potentially fall in love, and could potentially be rejected, into orbit. What’s happened in the meantime, is that the rest of me, minus vital emotions, still misses being cared for, so a part of me will always be shining this information into the ether, like some forgotten lighthouse. Which means, that I still attract souls who recognise this, but not consciously so, I think. I get sought out, and people actually care for me in the limited way we choose to (cos let’s face it, someone willing to take this little of me, and be happy with it, cannot have too much to give themselves, can they?) and I try to make it true, which never works out, cos I’m an all or nothing kinda girl.

This latest try followed basically the same principles, cept for the fact that I sought him out, and believe that my looking for him, in the end is what brought us into contact. Unlike the other ‘occurences’ I do not think that this was a hopeless, impossible case. I seriously believe that he came into it with too many reservations, although I don’t blame him, we’ve both been burned pretty badly in the past. I just think that made it kinda lopsided from the start. He was still a helluva lot braver than I am, contacting me after all these years. And, I’m working on accepting that even though I think we could have been something great, he was just not that into me. I’m laying some of this at the door of collected karma, both Sweetie and The Alcoholic were men I had encountered before in this life, so I’m consoling myself that at least some of what’s happened with them, is dealing with karma. Which doesn’t make me any less responsible, mind you. (Thankfully, I can’t think of any other men I might have collected debts with.)

Now, what makes this time different, is that no matter how hard I analyse (and I have, believe me, thought it to death), there is nothing I would have done differently. I went into the situation as myself, and came out of it, as myself. There were no moments I pretended to be other than I am. The person I showed and shared, was the closest to the real me I have ever showed anybody. Which to me is both terrifyingly bad, and something to be happy about. Terrifying because, he rejected me, or the situation, I’m still not truly sure which. And, although I’ll keep waking up to thoughts of him, and what could have been, for a long time to come, I am not broken. The good part in this is that I want to wake up, I want to get whole. And, for the first time I can remember, there is a part of me that knows I am loved, and will be loved. Loved in every sense of the word, like I’ve always dreamed of being loved, and this poor, shameful version I’ve been doling out, will be gone.

Although I still have to figure out exactly how to get myself together, and fix myself and my life, I am content with this start, of at least acknowledging that I cannot continue the way I am, and that I’m looking for avenues to move away from the spot I’ve stood frozen all these years.

Two choices, a) stay here, and give up the rest of me, or b) move, and go looking for what’s waiting. Mmmm, think I’m gonna try for b), this time. Wish me luck.

Help me make it through the night – Gladys Knight

Take the ribbon from my hair, shake it loose, let it fall,
lay it soft upon your skin. Like the shadows on the wall.

Come and lay down by my side, till the early morning light.
All I'm takin is your time. Help me make it through the night.

I don't care what's right or wrong, I won't try to understand.
Let the devil take tomorrow, lord, tonight I need a friend.

Yesterday is dead and gone, and tomorrow's out of sight.
It's so sad to be alone. Help me make it through the night.

I don't want to be alone. Help me make it through the night.

One of the most beautiful ballads ever written, in my opinion. Also, pretty accurate in it's description of how I currently ache.

What I Am

First song of the day, Friday, was: "The River" - Live

"She's sayin: Ooh Baby, can my lovin' ease your pain,
bring your burnin' skin to my river once again
I'll bring you life!"

Beautiful, and really a good message today, feels like the Folk upstairs, might actually be sparing me a few thoughts, which makes me feel less shitty.

Second song: "What I Am"- Edie Brickell & The New Bohemians

“What I am is what I am, are you what you are, or what?”

Mmm, interesting...

So, this is what I'm doing right now, trying to find a few defining words that can help me find the person in here somewhere, without defining myself by the roles I play.

I am:
A Nurturer, making things, animals, people, grow makes me happy;
A dancer, rhythm gets me high;
Loving, albeit cautiously so, recently;
Loyal, you give me respect, I give you unwavering;
A thinker, I don't jump into things head first;
Strong, I'd rather stay alone than engage in meaningless relationships;
Weak, I let people choose me, and try to make it work from that starting point, instead of making the choice with them;
Feminine, all the bravado aside, I want to feel safe, protected, fragile, with the person I feel affection for;
Introspective, I believe that you attract what you project;
Friendly, the saying 'you attract more flies with honey than with vinegar' is one of life's truths;
Instinctual, Fight-or-Flight is always just below the surface;
Slightly off-beat, or, as my baby bro puts it, 'the weird one'

-Can't really think of anything else that is inherently positive, and since I've realised that I tend to define myself by what I'm not, what I can't do, what I don't have, I'm trying to change that. I'll do some thinking, and continue this when I have something meaningful to add. So, this is to be continued, ok?

Oh, and something else .....

I have realised that the last 2 men I was drawn to, and that was drawn (at least partially) to me, were good guys. Now, this is MAJOR! Cos, my life pattern where men are concerned, basically centred around, the more broken you are, the more Sylphi wants to be used by you!

So, here's one in your eye, Bad Bad Patterns! I am actually moving forward, waving at the snails as they race by.... but still .... it's movement! Good, good news. Just thought I'd share with you.

What I was going to blog, and couldn't, and what I am officially blogging

What I wanted, to blog, and couldn't, due to Blogger error:
Looking for Love - or - How to Run into a Brick Wall Repeatedly

(Good contender as title for the 'How To' book I am SO qualified to write, don’t you think?)

Stocktaking after the latest romantic disaster, I realised that my forays into the realm of looking for love reads like a masochists wet dream. No, no, for real. I end up wiping bits of my heart off my own face, like a drunk wiping off vomit, clutch around at the pieces I can actually salvage, thank the person who assisted, and toddle off to go and puzzle it 'together' again. Done with that. No more.

As of yesterday, I have ended that chapter in the misadventures-of-a-closet-masochist-specializing-in-mincing-her-own-heart (me), and buried any dream of finding love. Pissed on the spot, just in case I thought of digging it up again. As an extra precaution, I'm wearing rings on my ring finger, which should zap anyone sniffing in my direction from a ways off, so I don't even have the opportunity to grab the barely-there heart, and shove it at the usually bewildered man with the “I-will-fuck-you-up(even more)-emotionally”-sign flashing on his forehead.

No more dreaming of having someone next to me, no more looking at baby clothes, no more even contemplating someone’s potential, no more no more no more nomorenomorenomore. I just don't think I am physically able to withstand the level of pain I put myself through, and deal with the shit choices I make, and stay sane. I AM DONE.

On the up-side, I have been having actual physical heart cramps for a few days, so maybe (hold thumbs with me, here), that means that I'm nearing the end of this particular life, in which I keep choosing to martyr myself on the altar of the god of Fucking Stupidity or, Love, depending on how you look at it. If I do die, there probably won't be any further blogs, but, I don't think too many people out there is gonna notice, so cheers, have a few sweet moments with your beloved in remembrance, why doncha! Tell them you’re celebrating not being a fucking spastic sense-depraved idiot(me).

It's not like I know what I'm missing anyway.


(PS. I did try to make this humorous, but hear me, this hurts, and I can’t take no mo, I just can’t. Please, please, please this needs to end, I am way past caring how it ends, just make it stop already. I’m beggin, honest to god, I’m beggin.)


And what I'm offically blogging for today:

I'm ok. Funnily enough, I am seriously ok. Last night I realised that I might actually not have had any real feelings for Sweetie after all. It may just have been an ego issue. See, I've always been the one who gets told that I'm driving people nuts, and that I'm wanted, blah blah blah. So, I'm thinking that maybe being the one taken for a test drive, instead of being the tester, threw me. Made me loopy for a while. Isn't that just too shallow for words? I also think that part of the problem is that I consider myself ready for The Relationship, and made so many preparations before Sweetie came along, that I decided beforehand he would be It. Thing is, yes, I do think that we have some kind of link, and yes, I am very drawn to him, but, obviously that's gonna wait for the next lifetime, maybe we'll sort it out then. Or, maybe this was about paying karma, which I've always felt I owe him, for treating him the way I did when I was a angst-ridden teen. I am kinda sad, I mean, rejection is never on one's list of fave things to receive, is it? But if it's an ego-issue, damn! I did not think I could be that shallow - Live and learn, heh? I pray the angels of Love drench him in what he wants, he's too good a catch to not have love. For me, nothing's changed, I'm still the same, doing what I do, feeling what I feel. The world turns once again. Whatever this was, it's over, and that's ok. Really, really ok.

It's Done

Hurts like a motherfucker.

Cold

Ok, First, it was hot. Very hot, too hot. Now, it's so cold, I feel like I have to turn away, and try to keep myself warm somewhere else. And no, I' ain't talkin about the weather. I'm talkin about a situation.

I am trying my best to give this person space, while at the same time keeping my rapidly-approaching insanity, quiet. I am going crazy second-guessing what's going on. How can we go from "Let me know if I'm crowding you?" to not having spoken in a week, plus no answer of sms's. I am stumped. Truly, check mate, mate. I do not have a clue.

If the angels in charge of the situation reads this, I just wanna know, ok? I won't get pissed or anything, I just wanna know. Please, you know, like, PRETTY PLEASE?
'Ta.

Emotional Theme for the past 2 days

Just 3 miles from the Rest Stop
and she slams on the brakes.
She said "I tried to be, but I'm not,
and could you please collect your things.
I don't wanna be cold,
I don't wanna be cruel,
but I gotta find more
than what's happenin with you,
if you'd, open up the door."

She said: "While you were sleeping
I was listening to the radio
and wonderin what you're dreamin, when
it came to mind that I didn't care.
So I thought, hell, if it's over
I had better end it quick
or I could lose my nerve,
are you listening, can you hear me?
Have you forgotten?"

Just 3 miles from the Rest Stop
and my mouth's too dry to rage
the light was shining from the radio
I could barely see her face.
But she knew all the words that I never had said,
she knew the crumpled-up promise of this
broken down man. And as I opened up the door

She said: "While you were sleeping
I was listenin to the radio
and wonderin what you're dreamin when,
it came to mind that I didn't care.
So I thought, hell, if it's over
I had better end it quick
or I could lose my nerve.
Are you listening, can you hear?
Have you forgotten?"

She said: "While you were sleeping
I was listenin to the radio
and wonderin what you're dreamin when,
it came to mind that I didn't care.
So I thought, hell, if it's over
I had better end it quick
or I could lose my nerve.
Are you listening, can you hear me?"

Matchbox 20 - Rest Stop

That Sinking Feeling

I have worked very hard, in the last couple of years, on not letting myself sink too deeply into the quicksand of depression when bad stuff happens. And, as a matter of personal pride, I've managed pretty well.

On all subjects except finances, that is. This is the one area that gets me, that pulls and pulls, until I start swallowing sand, stop struggling, and close my eyes. My finances have always been a dire strait. There's never enough, and if I don't get that little bit extra I sometimes get, if we're lucky at work, I don't make it. And, if the little extra stays away for more than 2 months, I'm fucked. Like now. This month I'm stressing about not being able to pay rent, again. And, if I can't pay, and we have to move, mom loses the roof over her head with me. And my son, and our dogs, cats, everything.

I am really bad at financial planning, I know, I also have a bit of a addiction to shopping, which I'm dealing with, but slowly. So, I kinda get myself in spots too tight to move, and being claustrophobic, feeling this restrained makes the panic push up like vomit.

The threat of not being able to pull rabbits out of hats are always present, and it drives me to the darkest of despair. This is the most powerless I ever feel, and there's nothing I hate more than this.

Don't screw with my Filing System!

Ok, here's the thing;I like categorising things, and people, and what they are in relation to me. Eg. Friend, Partner, Family, you get the picture? This way, I know which behaviour is suited to which person - no kissing other than Happy Birthday and special holidays for Friends, no telling embarrassing secrest to Family (it'll reach them via some other source anyway, which is so much MORE FUN!) blah blah blah. Keep 'em seperate, and don't get the lines blurred, s'what I say.

"Till now, this is a theory that has worked out extremely well for me. Not so much anymore. There's this new person, Sweetie/Honey. Now, this is a file I'd like in my filing system for a long, long time, problem is, he's gonna have to have his own category, cos the bugger refuses to stick to my existing system.

Past experience taught me to place files that carry the same potential as his, under the 'Partner', or 'Potential Partner' heading (where they never stayed very long, I have to admit, before being moved to File 13) Only, he doesn't want to go there. According to him, he wants in at the 'Friend' level, which is fine, only, he sure doesn't feel like a 'Friend', and it's confusing the living crap outta me.At one moment, teasing him like only a good friend would, and the next to physically restrain myself from jumping him when he gives me those soulfull looks. Daaaaaaang!

Still, I really, really want to respect what he wants, cos what he wants makes a helluva lotta sense, and I should be able to restrain myself, shouldn't I? If only it wasn't so damn confusing. Think I may need to book an appointment at my optometrist, feel a little cross-eyed from tryin' to read all these mixed signals.

Another Eureka! Moment

You know, I don't know how I miss these things, or how I all of a sudden have these flashes, but yes, another bolt struck me last night.

The Honey (formerly referred to as Sweetie), came over for dinner night before last. He got chatting with Chief Advisor about a place he'd been camping, in a gorge, and a specific spot where 2 rivers had carved the canyon and caused a current of wind to kind of rotate against the rocks (very technical, not sure I know how to explain it), and how he loved the way the wind moved in that spot. Which led to him remarking that his favourite part of a storm was the wind before the rain started (which is also my favourite part). But, I had no technical way of explaining why I like it, just how it made me feel.

He'd brought a DVD entitled "Baraka" which he'd been telling me about earlier, and Chief Advisor, Honey and I sat down to watch it. It basically is about an hour and half of images, designed and edited to show the contrast, tragedy, and destruction of the artificial "human" world vs nature. The way we control, and in the controlling, destroy, and how we end up being as cruel to ourselves as we are to nature. Some very disturbing stuff. So, chatting to CA, Honey launched into another very technical explanation of the juxtapositioning in the DVD, and how interesting he found it. Listening to him, I was thinking (kinda alarmed that I wasn't being as analytical about it) about how much it made me ache for the hurts we perpetrate, and how it pisses me off to be part of it all. When, yep, you guessed it, I GOT IT!
We were feeling the same things! Only, he was saying it in GUY talk, and I was feeling it in GIRL talk! Two totally different languages.

Ironic how it took me 3 and a half decades to really grasp that concept. Although, this doesn't change the fact that I don't understand GUY, and I don't think I really know a man with the necessary skill to learn fluent GIRL. Ah well, they say acceptance of a problem is the first step to fixin' it, I'll just hang on to that for a while. And listen to men talk more often, instead of just diving into it and letting it run down my back like a little duck.

"Look Ma, no hands!"

They say having sex is like riding a bicycle, even if you haven't done it in A WHILE, you should be able to just get on, and do it (so to speak). Now, I kinda have my doubts about that statement. Here's why; I have not cycled anywhere, or anything, in roughly - 15 years. Now, I don't doubt the fact that I'd be able to "jump the bike", but that's where the certainty stops. I doubt that I'd be able to stay on, and get the balancing while peddling thing in synch.

And no, this is not the Issue de Jeur due to the possibility of having sex, or cycling, anytime soon.This is the Issue de Jeur due to a blog recently published by my favourite author about research. She writes a mix of horror, erotica, and mystery. The horror and mystery I'm not concerned with right now, the erotica, I am. She is married, to her second husband, and admits to doing quite a bit of 'research' with hubby. Ok, that already pushes oversharing, so the next bit, is what's got me worried. She describes the joy of being with someone you love, who loves you, and the level of comfort you reach in a relationship, as one of the main motivating factors for the amount of 'research' they do. And, with each new book (in the series) the characters push the envelope a little further. Knowing that each new scene was previously played out in a bedroom in rural USA, is worrying enough, it's her describing the humor that accompanies blikseming off the bed, during a really good rogering, that worries me. First off, you'd think that with the copious amounts of practice she gets, she'd be better at balance, don't ya? Second, if a expert like her still goes sprawling, clutching sheets and goodness knows what else - how the hell is an amateur like me gonna stay in the seat? (Proving that actually becomes an issue - one day - like in 2012 just before the earth ceases to exist, like the Mayans predicted.) Oh joy! Take that, while everone else will be staring bug-eyed at the spreading mushroom cloud, I'll be a) moaning in ecstacy, whle not falling off a bed, or b) shouting "Whoohoo! Look ma, no hands!" while bumping down the nearest road.

The Sweetest Thing

I had a nice weekend, which is surprising, cos I was out of my comfort zone on a couple of occassions, but they were both good experiences. I had dinner with the Sweetie mentioned below, and there were actually no uncomfortable silences worth mentioning. As a matter of fact, I was extremely comfortable. Then, he had a late lunch with us at home on Sunday afternoon, and even though I was in a rather crappy mood, it was ok.

The one problem I do have is that he's too perceptive for my good, by far. He listens, and can actually ask questions pertinent to what I said, which totally throws me, every time. Not used to that in men, the listening thing.

Something else strange about him, we've been talking and seeing each other (not in THAT way) for a week and a half now, on an almost daily basis (at least chatting) and I have never spent this amount of time in a straight guy's company, without him making some kind of sexual overture (or remark about my appearance). Never, I swear. And, at first, that bugged me, I was worried that maybe he didn't find me attractive, you know, the usual insecurities rearing their fugly heads. Now, I kinda appreciate it, it makes me feel safer and less pressured, like I can be a little more vulnerable that I usually let myself be, and I like it!

So, to the anonymous angel that helped him reach me: "Thank you darlin', my gratitude for bringing a much needed sweet interlude my way. I sure hope he stays."