A New Beginning

I’ve decided to simply share with you a poem/song that I’d written, for Geese.  

Sometimes in life, things don’t always work out the way that we’d like (and I can hear him say, “You have to do the work to make your life turn out the way that you want.”) but it doesn't mean that we should forget the value that a union has brought into it.  From friendships to relationships...when either of those end?   Sadness, disappointment...and even anger, in it's natural state, fills us with all kinds of contrasting feelings.  Good, bad...ugly.  

I've held onto too many bad feelings from my not-so-nice life experiences and as I go through the motions of yet another one today, I asked myself?  "Ultimately?  What do the bad feelings do for me?"   

As a detour to the way that I deal with these types of issues?  More importantly, as a reminder to me that my love life has consisted of alot more than just beginnings and endings?  I’ve decided to mark this first day, of the rest of my life?  With a celebration of one of the most beautiful life/love experiences I’ve ever had.  

For what it’s worth Geese...thank you!

Him

I’m never at all times certain, never devoid of doubt
Even though I’ve lived, I question what this life's about
But when my sky spins grey and my sun weakens in the distance
I reach into my soul, and I'm confident in that instance

That it's him
When my will is lost and my mind's in a disarray

That it's him
When I call out for someone who knows just what to say
That it's him
When happy’s wings wrap themselves around me
It’s him, no more chains, I’m just free
It’s him...all him

I dreamed him, to life I breathed him, in my fantasy
There's something inside of me that only he’s able to see
Patiently, I lingered for destiny to take my hand
To walk me to him, until time made me understand

That it's him
When my will is lost and my mind's in a disarray
That it's him
When I call out for someone who knows just what to say
That it's him
When happy’s wings wrap themselves around me
It’s him, no more chains, I’m just free
It’s him...all him

I've seen many failures, but he is my greatest victory
My prize was won the moment he laid eyes on me
He shines, when the glow in my tunnel is dim
When I roam, he leaves traces leading back to him
And when he’s gone, when he’s far, I feel it distinctly
Nothing but a message, just a reminder to me

That it's him
When my will is lost and my mind's in a disarray
That it's him
When I call out for someone who knows just what to say
That it's him
When happy’s wings wrap themselves around me
It’s him, no more chains, I’m just free
It’s him...all him

Stacey Kell
South Africa
2012-09-18

Flying into the New Year

I missed you guys!  MMMMMMMM-HMMMMM!  In case you’re wondering what’s up with all the m’s and one h..........That's a hug!  For you, you and you!   And allllll the other you’s that I didn’t mention.  

Geese taught me how to hug.  In words!  I already knew how to hug in person.  I also know how to smile in symbols.  Be confused in letters!  And show anger with a g and however many r’s as I want.  Evidently?  Long distance relationships broaden your affection horizons!  As well as prove you totally wrong at times. 

One thing I always told myself, "Stacey?  Patience was a virgin."  And then I giggle 'cause I told myself a joke?  And then I give myself a compliment, "You're a good joke teller!"  And then I begin to argue with myself about, "No, I'm not!  Yes, you are..."  I then find myself becoming obstinate with, "You wanna take this outside?"  Which causes me to feel guilty for wanting to kick my own ass for arguing with me?  That's sobering in itself because I’m allergic to violence. 

So I just end up saying what I came to say.  To me.  "Patience is a virtue.  Of which you have none!"  But even then?  I snarl.  Because being in a long distance relationship?  Again...it forces you to have a tolerance for waiting.  I just?  Have.  Not.  Perfected that in the line at Home Affairs yet.  I think one would need to date someone from the moon to cultivate that kind of tolerance.  2005 or not?  I haven’t forgotten that poor guy who resorted to taking people hostage in Home Affairs with a toy gun, as a way of begging them to give him his ID.  That’s, now what you call, frustration. 

Can you see how quickly things can suddenly turn from you going, hopefully, to apply for your ID?  To becoming a toy gun wielding hostage taker?  For me?  Okay, there certainly are better ways to handle certain situations.  But?!?!?!  Could you blame the poor fellow.  It’d been twoooooooooooooooooo years.  A person can have two children in the space of time that they made him wait for his ID!  They wouldn’t give him an answer.  His life was on hold.  He couldn’t further his studies.  He couldn’t get a job.  He couldn’t produce his ID, like, “Can I see your ID, sir?”  “Yes, here it is!”  And then to top it all off?  He gets a five-year prison sentence.  PfffffffffffffT!  Entire life messed up over lack of service delivery!  What was most appalling about that entire situation was that before the day was over?  His ID was flown from Pretoria and handed to him.  Was it really necessary to have to go that far?  For him, it obviously was.  Someone was using it as a coaster for two years and suddenly he threatens to yell, “POW! POW! POW!”  (That’s all one can do with a toy gun.)  And it magically appears.  O_O!!!!        

Speaking of long distance?  We're just three months to New Years, aren't we?!  You know what that means, right?  Summmmmmmer!  Whoooooooo-hooooooo!  New Years’ Resolutions!  Gift shopping over Christmas!  Killing mosquitoes. 

That’s in Durban. 

If we venture pass provincial boundaries, however?  Prance, festively into the city of that province?  Some household appliances are three months away from being flung from the twenty-third floor, onto some poor unsuspecting persons head.  In Hillbrow!  That's just.....sohhh unnecessary.  Really.  Granted, it's just my personal opinion?  You might very well feel differently.  In the name of all that is just and fair, I will state that you have every right to?  But if you do?  Then you must be from Hillbrow.  And seriously, you need to stop doing that.  At the very least?  Someone has a headache all of New Years Day thanks to flying microwaves.  >_<! 

It's taking me my entire adult life to try to figure out what possesses someone to open their window and flinnnnnnng their television set out of it.  Because it’s New Years Eve!   lO_Ok?  (How’s that for a verb that looks like it’s doing what it means!”)  I feel the New Year excitement as much as the next person but not a single bone in my body?  While I’m watching an episode of The First 48?  Prompts me to get up off the couch...turn it off...and hurl it.  Not even on my angriest day would my bones tell me to do that.  What would I watch on the second day of January?  My bones are clearly forward thinking.  Or just plain lazy.  Hillbrow bones, on the other hand?  Are more the spur of the moment type.  That’s the feeling I’m getting...in my...uh...bones.

Nature of a Pitbull

Last night?  I made two whole pizza's with two leftover chicken drumsticks!  Within that moment?  I knew what Jesus felt like!  Nnnnnnnnnnnnn....I think my lighter's getting washed right now.  That.  Can't be good.  For cheek sake, I'm still gonna try using it when that load of washing is spun to a standstill.  :-/  And then curse out the washing machine when it doesn't work!  As if IIIII didn't leave it in my pocket. 

I was home alone for a while and looking for household appliances to piss off.  Paige ditched me for frozen yoghurt and a Litchy!  I mean, Litchy, my niece!  Fruity name, huh?  You'd think the 23kg's I gained while carrying her would mean something?  Not to mention that I carried her to full term and shared with her my very nutritious breast milk.  Lovingly, I might add!  Tsk. Tsk. Tsk!  Is all I'm sayin’.  Loyalty is such a forgotten virtue!

Isn't it strange, though?  That we can carry so much excess weight but we need a trolley for groceries?  Me?  I avoid carrying a 5kg pocket of potatoes at all costs.  I don't buy it!  I don't look at it!  Sometimes?  You make the mistake of acknowledging vegetables and they expect you to take them home! 

Betty?  Our domestic worker?  She was part of my life from nursery school right up until Damon was born and grew a little bit?  I love her, still and always will.  She?!?!?  Could carry an entire wardrobe!  That’s gifted if you ask me.  Today?  Furniture comes in a box and you have to assemble it yourself!  WTF??!  Betty?  Betty would saunter down Richard Winn Road with a fully assembled wardrobe balancing on her head!  Stop for a convo here and there?  With such ease?  You'd think she was a furniture truck!  O_O! 

Let Checkers be out of trolleys!  Don't be stopping meee for light conversation.  I'm not talking to a soul.  Alllll I'm doing is that that fast walk, like you need the bathroom.  You know that walk?  To the car and then sorrowfully rubbing the packet lines on my arms.  Not to mention, vowing nevvVvver to return to that grocery store again when I notice one of its employees pushing a line of a hundred trolleys pass me.

We've gotten preTTy lazy, haven't we?  Even to hear the words, "walk to..."...we're like, "GASP!!!"  Carry that wardrobe!  GASP!!!!  Wake up in the morning!  GASPPPP!!!!!  Exercise!  OMGASPPPPPPPP!  LALALALAAALA, with your hands over your ears!  Or should I say?  With my hands over my ears.  Some people love it!  All that lifting weights and hooking your feet under things, laying back and then bringing you body up like aaaaa-aaaaargh?  Normal people?  Don't!  That's why I dance!  I'm normal.  And I was not designed for that gym type of exercise.  Infact?  I make it my duty never to even mouth the word, gym!  There's got to be an easier way to stay fit and healthy aside from eating salads and running wild on a treadmill.  Which would possibly mean having to walk to....GASPPP!!!!

Can you imagine life without cars?  No?  Close your eyes.  Now?  Crap!  Bad idea, 'cause now you can't read what I'm writing.  Open your eyes!  Stare into yonder!  Look back at the page every now and again in case I just met Julius Malema and was writing about it.  You wouldn't wanna miss that!  But I would!  I'd miss a chance to meet him in a heartbeat!  And not because I'm being a hater.  It's just?  Enough already, Julius mannnnnnnnnnnnn!! 

I know what Zuma's thinking too.  "Which fresh college graduate can I marry next?"  And just two seconds before he makes his choice?  His fantasy is interrupted by memories of yesteryear!  Slouched in his chair, sighing heavily as his shoulders rounded, clearly signifying that there were too many fresh college graduates and too little of him....A-heM!  Clearrrrrrrrly signifying!  That it is within that moment that he remembered his beloved pet...pitbull.  (I might turn this into a kiddies book.)  One that he held, very dear.  He worked...choke...tirelessly, cough (‘scuse me)...to clothe, feed and pet it.  Only thing was?  He failed to do the most important thing!  He forgot to study the very nature of his precious pet, now didn’t he, children?!  Who knows why I’m saying that?  No, no!  No, yelling all at once, we’re all civilized...let’s raise our hands!  

Thattttttt’s right!  ‘Cause now?  Like they always do!  It's turned around to bite him square in the ass!  Uuuuh?  They probably won’t allow me to say, “ass” in a children’s book.  But I’ll think of another appropriate word. 

If you ever wondered what went down between God and pre-Satan?  You're watching it live!  All that's left is to see who gets thrown out of heaven, this time!

Trevor Noah Show

I went to the Trevor Noah show on Saturday with Nona and them?  The man!  Is hilarious! 

Lemme tell you something!  This sweet is not doing my tongue annnnny justice!  Sparkles taste so different when you’re a little kid.  Right now?  I can’t tell whether my tongue is burning or melting into my gums?  It must be the traces of peanuts I just noted that it contains.  I’m not allergic to peanuts, far as I know.  But I am allergic to believing that a hard, see-through, orange, sweet.  Contains traces of peanuts?  Look?  Peanut brittle?  I can easily understand.  Peanut butter?  Peanuts, themselves?!?  But Fruit Mix Flavoured Sparkles?!?!?!?  Is someone sitting somewhere in the factory randomly throwing peanuts around?  ‘Cause I see this “warning” on most things and even if I wanted to?  I could never ever tell you how a peanut or even a spec of a peanut got into rice.

You see now?  I was alllll ready with the, “lemme tell you something!”  And then I felt the sensation of the mysterious “peanut traced” fruit sweets on my tongue and I got lost.  Shew!  Okay.  Finally here.  Now?  Lemme tell you something!  Doesn’t that just command the readers’ attention?  Like, “Tingalingalingaling”.  Ofcourse you’re not reading then?  You’re at a fancy party bored outa your mind, thinking, “Who-tf can I throw peanuts at,” but?!?!  But you have no choice but to stop and turn when you hear someone tapping a metal spoon on a wine glass, huh?  It’s an attention grabber.  It’s the same as whe............what? 

That hurt, -_-  Alright.

Let me tell you something.  I get formal when I get my feelings hurt.  I can’t understand why, ‘cause this is my blog, if I wanted to take lon....okay, okaaaaaay.....I’ll get to my point.  I was just saying that it’s m.....aaaaaaaargh! 

Poinnnnnnnnnnnnnnnt????????????????????????????  I’m tryna find my point.  Poooooooooooint!?!?!   When my flow is interrupted like that, then I................there you goooooh!  Found it!

Lemme tell you something!  If I were a joke?  I’d want to come outa Trevor’s mouth!  (Can someone put that in my next life request?  After the butterfly.  No, wait.  He might not be around by then.  Before the butterfly!)  Just?  Just write it on a page.  Serviette, even.  Nothing  fancy.  Write, “I, Stacey Kell, aka, the Rambler, hereby state that I want to come back as a joke!  And I want Trevor Noah to tell me.”  ­^_^  <----------------  Check it out!  Made my smile italics so now it looks like it’s windy on my page, doesn’t it?

He was so funny, that after the show Nona asked me, “Did you see how that guy was hitting his girlfriend?”  I looked at her thinking, “WTF?!?!?  There was a fight and I missed it?!?!  I didn’t even see people scatter and shit?  What if I needed to run and I didn’t know?”   I had no idea what she was talking about and I was very happy about that too.  Violence makes me nauseous.  If you knew my family, you’d say, “GASP!”  But by the sounds of things?   Every time Trevor delivered?  He delivered.  This is why I always say, softly, “Get to know your partner well!  Before you go with him to a stand-up comedy show.”   

I don’t know about you?  But?!  Don’t keep tapping me on my shoulder when you’re talking to me.  Don’t smack me when you hear a joke that’s so funny that it increases your chances of spending the night in a prison cell for gbh.  Consider me.  Think of the fact that I have a sense of humour.  Annnnd pain!  I love to laugh ‘til the tears roll down my cheeks.  I really don’t appreciate someone turning my “happy” tears into “%&$#!!!!!  You just stung the hair offa my %^^($# thigh” tears.  It’s rude.  And painful and a mood spoiler.  How would you like it if I punched you in the eye every time I heard a joke?!  Like HAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHA!  BAMMMMM!!!!!!!!  HAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!!!  BAMMMMMMM!!!!!!!!   Uhhhhhh-huh?!?!  No? 

That poor woman.  I know what we should do.  All of those smack-laughers or laughing smackers or whatever you wanna call them?  We should arrange a show just for them.  Get Trevor up on that stage and let them happily beat the crap outa each other.  We will never see them at another comedy show again.  Can you picture it?  LOL!!!  HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!!!!  A bunch of battered and bruised people coming out of the theatre after a stand-up comedy show?  Bent and limping.  Barely able to groan.  Looking #%$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$ed up!  That was “messed” up for those of you who don’t curse. 

For those of you who do?  It’s whatever you want it to be.     

Little White Lies

It’s wet out there once again.  But that’s okay.  What don’t kill makes fat.  O_o.  

You’ll have to excuse me.  I’ve been trying to adopt somewhat of a tasteless eating plan.  By now, even you are sick of my dietary woes.  

I got it!  What wets won’t kill.  There we go.  Now you guys know that I’m talking about rain.  Not warm trickling custard.  Sob...sniff sniff.  My once satisfied taste buds are currently planning a coup because I’m point blank refusing them something sweet.  I’ve had to point my finger and strictly declare, “You will snack on seed bars and you will like it...”  As a show of my disapproval, I’ve decided to snack less.  That’s a worthy example of cutting off your nose to spite your face.

Hmmmmmmmmmm?  A thought?  Are you able to make your eyes go cross-eyed?  If you point your finger at yourself and stay focused on it until it’s touching your uni-brow?!  (Hush Hair Removal would solve your problem...^_^  just saying)  Work with me now.  You cannot point your finger at your ear and expect to go cross-eyed!  You gotta get that finger nice and centred between your eyes, a ruler’s length away.  It’s easy.  I’m doing it right now.  Without the trembling fear of my eyes staying this way.  Remember how our parent’s told us that it would?  Or how if we ate the seeds of fruit.  Or grass?  You know how some kids like to put anything in their mouths.  A tree would grow in our stomach?  What about the swallowing bubblegum lie?  Wtf is up with all the lies adults tell us when we’re kids?   Orrrrr?  And this for me is the mother of all fibs.  How our nose would grow if we lied?  Didn’t you detest Pinocchio for being the “this is what I will look like if I lie” representative?  But, more importantly!  That has to be the height of the lie-er telling a lie about lying! 

At one point?!!  And I’m pretty sure that every one of you has momentarily experienced this, where?  Instead of growing up to be the best we could be?  We, at some stage.  At one given moment, when the lies just became a little bit too much?  Believed that by the time we’re 23 years old, we would be cross-eyed, with bubbles being blown outa our ass, and tree branches growing outa our ears.  Who can blame us for that!  Personally?  I wasn’t aware that I was part of a network of little people being scared half to the point of losing their forward vision!  So I took what they said to heart.  My gran should have told my mum, “If you have sex in that position?  Your child’s heart will be on the right-hand side!”  She may have, (shrug) I dunno...all I know is someone didn’t do something.  One didn’t lie or one didn’t listen.  ‘Cause here I am...their little “dextrocardia with situs inversus” baby girl.    

But let’s not pretend as if we shouldn’t also be asking, “Wtf is up with all the lies we tell our kids, now that we’re adults?”  I fully understand why our parent’s had to tell us those little traumatizing white lies.  Because, just like our kids?  We too didn’t listen when they simply stopped at, “Don’t pull your face like that.”   It’s common knowledge, I think.  That once you have failed at Step 1, the instruction?  The only logical next move is to Step 2, installation of fear.   Sigh.  ~_~  I started out trying to make our parents look bad, but all I feel now is that I need to go home and apologize for continuously swallowing my gum, thereby forcing them to move onto Step 2.    

**Newsflash!**  I’ve rediscovered my love for Baby Can I Hold You by Tracy Chapman.  This morning?  I tormented poor Wendy and Nicole on our ride to work.  I didn’t plan to.  But I didn’t tell them not to like Tracy Chapman either.  The result?  Aside from me and Tracy, performing multiple duets?  Those two turned my car into the set of Silence of the Lambs.  They did such an awesome job?  On our return trip, I’m contemplating a re-run of this morning’s episode.  Shhhhhhhhhhhh, don’t tell them.  They like surprises!  HEH-HEH-HEH!!    

Cultural Coloureds

What a beautiful day it is in Durban, today!  ^_^!  I can literally hear the birds chirping.  They could be choking?!  Poor things.  But, I'm not a birdologist so I really can't tell.  All I know is that the sun is shining and the birds are...?  Well?  Alive.  And the day just got better because my eyes happened upon the calendar and I see that we have a long weekend coming up.  Heritage Day is on the 24^th.   I knew that was coming next.  “Miss Rambler?  What is Heritage Day?”  As if Google doesn’t exist.  K  But?!?  I am here to enlighten.  So...?

We, in South Africa should use this day to celebrate our culture and heritage.  BWAAAAHAHAHAHAHAHA!  A-hem!  Sorry.  I shouldn’t have laughed.  Just?  Thinking.  I guess us Coloured’s will have to choose something.  Me?  I could celebrate being Indian.  Borrow a beautiful sari and cook a nice hot curry.  Or find a desert somewhere, not borrow a sari and celebrate being a San person.  Orrr, I could learn some German or Polish and keep a count of how many times in one day I can get people to say, “O_o!  Huh??” to me. 

I’m suddenly quite confused.  As a person.  After sifting through my blood-line like that?  Part of me is asking, “Who am I?” 

The sarcastic part couldn’t resist, “Stacey.”   

The deep part of me asks once more, “Where did I come from?” 

Annnnnd the sarcastic part simply couldn’t let that one get away, “Dust!  I came from dust and to dust I shall return.” 

And then when my deep part looked as though it was assuming the throttle position, my sarcastic part tried to cover itself, “ Whaaat?  Not-not so far back?  Okay.  From Durban then.  What a boring answer.  Plus I was working my way there but then you interrupted me with big eyeballed glares.  You woulda gotten to know my parents really well.” 

Just?  I feel like there’s too much of me.  No.  Too much to me.  Uuuuurghhhh-Too much in me.  You know what?  The truth of the public holiday matter is this.  As Coloured South African’s?  We need a series of public holidays.  Heritage DayS.  Now see, if I were in charge of public holidays?  I’d give all the Coloured’s, depending on how many nationalities they’re made of.  I’d give them those amounts of days off for Heritage Day.  Uhmmm-M!  For me?  As the Public Holiday Minister, (I don’t need experience), it would be fair.  Slighhhhhtly biased.  But fair.  Like take my own blood-line for example?  I’d score like a week.  What about you?   Three days?  Five?  More than one though, right?  I’d vote for me if I were you.

Just received an email saying that we are all to dress up for work in our cultural gear on the 21^st.  I was, in fact, tempted to send a response back that said, “... Just because we’re Coloured, huh?”   But I practised self-control.  The CEO might not have appreciated that.  And why?  Because I can tell you right now that every Coloured in the office shall be seen dressed no differently than we are every other day, which sucks!  I like fancy dress parties just as much as the next race.  And now look?  Out in the cold like a cultureless clan.

On a personal level?  I get nervous when people I’ve never met before, ask me about my culture.  After you admit that you're Coloured from South Africa, you start sweating.  And stuttering.  And contemplate talking Zulu.  'Cause I know what's gonna follow.  And once those words have been released, from their mouth to my resisting ears?  The first thing I wanna do, is flip the script (LOL!), “Enough about me.  Why don't you tell me about yours?”  Just so that I can steal some ideas from them.    

Fallen Flora

My tree has now decided that it was high time that it fell on the neighbours roof. Temperamental bastard! I didn't even plant the damn thing??!!!

I'm forced to ask? Does it ever end? Lemme tell you? Whatever sick, twisted game...(I much prefer Scrabble)...this world is tryna play with me? It stopped being fun a whillllllllle ago.

I think I'm gonna read my own book and...? Howl into my pillow. The pillow would probably not be very happy but hey? I need the company! Tyler said it made her cry. She was like, "Why are you making me cry? Why??" I thought, at first, that she was tryna get my opinion on the first line of poetry that she was writing? But, uh-uhhh. She was simply telling me what my book was doing to her tear ducts.

Maybe she just wasn't in the mood to cry? It WAS Sunday. Some people have a rule against crying on certain days. Or when they're wearing mascara. I don't. I'm a law unto myself. If I'm frustrated or sad? Like now. I cry. Sob. Like that. God gave me tears and I'm not afraid to use them. Some people shop. Thanks to the #*@+"?! tree? I can't! Some people curse out random people who happen to make eye contact with them? Some people? Are saying, enough with the some people references, so I'll give it a rest. The tree looks as though it's resting too. At my expense. I'm pretty sure it has no idea that the price of petrol has just gone up by some ridiculous amount. Damn tree! I always knew that trees were nothing but trouble! When you hear stories beginning with..."Deeeeeep in the heart of the forest...?" Do those ever have a happy ending? Mmmmm-M! And what are forests made of? Tall troublemakers! That's what!

AaaaaaaaaaaaaaH-tishooo! Errrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr! I'm having the pity party of the century here. In my pajamas! Ooooooooh-hoooooo! On a Monday. A party on a Monday. Imagine that? Me and Siny. Let me be proper. Siny and I. That's my nickname for my sinus. If you're tired of dry eyes? Or you just wanna join me? For support. I'll email the book to you. It's called, Broken. Just like the tree....annnnd the neighbours roof.

I'm well aware that I have a lot more to be grateful for that many others do. I have a tree and a neighbours roof tooo complain about. A tree coulda fallen on ME when I wasn't wearing my helmet! That woulda been bad. O_O! I could have BEEN a tree! But none of that makes me feel any better. It's been a rollercoaster ride! And I'm now rather nauseous. Single motherhood or just hood in general? Hood as in life not the hood that the BoyZ were in...tastes like twelve olives lodged in my throat lately. I don't like them so I just swallowed without chewing. Apparently? That offends olives. Who knew!!!? O_o
Sent via my BlackBerry from Vodacom - let your email find you!

Bittersweet Lessons

Friday, I feasted on four pieces of Cadbury's Top Deck chocolate. Immediately after enjo----...you know what? "Enjoying" is such a harsh word. Harsh by measurement of truth, that is. Harshhhhhly untrue! The more truthful version should read....

Immediately after consuming an entire grapefruit! (thaaaat's better, now I sound all starch-pantied instead of like a lying sack-a grapefruit!) Seeeeeds and all....'Cause I'm a rebel. You shoulda been there! How? Is not important! Train, plane, automobile? You'd have been able to witness the apparent struggle between good and evil on the edge of either of my shoulders. Me? I mean, everything except the shoulders of me? We made sure to stay out of it. But?

Nobody won. :-) Clearly.

On second thought? Like the invisible consolation prize that allllll losing contestants in any kind of competition get to clutch, hold close, take home and set on their shelves? "We're alllll winners!" No. We. Are. Not. We are allllll contestants! Until we win and when we don't? Then we are contestants who have lost. Meanwhile, behind the tearful agreeable nods by the losing "winners"? I know exactly what at least one of them are thinking. "Yuppp! That's probably why I'm holding aiiiiiir! And that person, with the gleaming smile? Is holding a big, shiny trophy!"

There really can only be one winner. Unless it's a tie. Like in the case of my shoulders.

Trot with me, will ya, to this side of my bed so that we have enough room to look back at what happened next, in my office! Look back. You're? Not looking back. I know it's a blank wall! Just?!? Look back! Errrrrrrrrrrrrrr! It's still blank 'cause I'm arguing with you about the position of your head instead of colouring the wall with my imaginative mind-crayons!

........................Okay! Now? Watch closely while I bring that wall to life!

As the day progressed from mid-morning to afternoon? An eery wind began to blow. Somewhere else. Dammit! I sohh wish it was outside my office window, 'cause it woulda made my story that much better! But? I will make do with grey clouds. Grey clouds began to blow. Not-not quite! Grey clouds hovered above me. Mannnnnnnn!??? So, you're seriously gonna ask me whether I have a roof over my office? Why did I invent you? Of all the people to invent? I choose to invent a stubborn question mark! Smh!

Back in my roof-covered office.......I did make it my duty to...follow instructions. Nod, if you can you see me making it my duty. When one shoulder told me to eat the grapefruit, I did. Once I was done? I washed my hands and returned to my desk, preparing to resume work. I had deadlines. To my utter surprise? Utter! The other shoulder told me to open my drawer, remove the chocolate, open the wrapper and eat it? So? I did. Can you see me didding? Hey! Ask my teachers. Not from Grade Five. I al-ways listened. I saw no reason for that to change just because my instructors were now my shoulders!

Ofcourse? Because I knew it was wrong? I protested. Silently. Bitter grapefruit remnants prevented me from being as vocal as I should have been!! I even said, tsk tsk tsk, to myself. Can you see the bitterness preventing me from vocalising? Jussssss checking whether you're following......me protesting sohh silently, that I couldn't even hear myself over the chocolate melting upon my tongue. Now? Can you see how the frown lines are slowly disappearing?

But do you know something? And this is a perfect example of the glass-half-full kinda thinking. You know why I forgave myself? Because the whole experience taught me something valuable. It would just be wrong to be angry at myself for learning something valuable. Same as if you trip and twist your ankle and you end up with one leg looking like you traded it with an elephant in a moment of alcoholic intoxication at the zoo! Can you see the drunk elephant with one of your legs? I love it when my wall fills up with images you wouldn't ordinarily see in real life!

I can tell you right now that you shouldn't be angry at that phantom brick because you were too busy texting. And why? Because it taught you something valuable. To pay attention to phantom bricks that just might be lying on the floor of your bathroom when you're alone at home. Now you're having to sit there, naked, until someone comes to rescue you, naked, trying to figure out how to build a brick from soap and facecloths, naked, just because you don't wanna seem like an idiot who tripped over your own feet, naked. Well? At least you can still text.

The universe? In this little period of learnership, per say? Gave me a first-hand lesson on what the actual meaning of "a bittersweet moment" is. So?! I-I embraced the experience! And moved past the guilt so that I could give back to the universe. Now I can shimmy on forth and teach it to the world.

................Or just to my readers.

Let's be honest. I can't teach the world. Unless there was a natural disaster and for some unknown reason, only my blog readers were spared. I'd be the new Noah, then. You know that, right?

So now? If I'm having a conversation with someone? And the subject comes up? I can get right in there and add my own personal experience to it. Therefore, adding value to the conversation! Wow? Now that I'm reflecting on it? I'm really getting to see the extremely far-reaching effects of value! Like a dominoe effect of value. I so value my shoulders right now. In fact? The next conversation I have? I think I'm gonna secretly steer it towards a bittersweet subject, 'cause now I'm just excited!
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Springing in the Rain

Well?  Isn’t Spring just a confoooooozed liTTooooL season...yessss it izzzzzzz!!?  Yesssss, it izzzzzzzzzz!!!  Spring is glaring at me like, “Get away from me, mortal!  I’m not a gurgly four month old baby, you idiot!”  How rude!  O_o!  Exactly!  That's the face of Spring!  Rain and cold!  The capital O is rain and the small o is cold.  “But Rambler?  What is the underscore?!?!” you ask?  That is my total dismay for the way in which it has presented itself!  Hmmmmmmph!  And now I have no choice but to sulk……………………..

Then quickly realize that although cute, my pouting changes nothing.  So I’ve decided to direct my energy towards educating foreigners.  In case you haven’t happened by this on the internet while trying to somehow confirm whether each of us really do ride elephants to and from work?  Spring begins on September first in South Africa.  Every single year.  That very first day of September?  Is called Spring Day.  I know, right?!?  ClevvVvverness!  I've never once wondered how they came up with that name. 

And now?!?  Let’s all let that sink in while we take a break from learning and go back to whining.  Just when I thought it was safe to feel warm and...springy?!  Spring happened!  Now?  Winter’s gone?  And I'm still being forced to wear wool……..says the woman who wears jeans to the beach.  But that's different!  Don't argue!  It just is.  It's a choice!  This?  Is not!  The only warmth I'm feeling is from the aggravation of realizing that my car licence was due at the end of July.  I’d now like to take a sarcastic moment to thank the Motor Vehicle department for not sending me the reminder!  Your kindness knows no end.  Penalties: yet another way that the government makes free money off of us.  I was searching penalty fees on the net just now and they tried to tell me that it’s my duty to know when my licence is due.  Puleeeeeeze?  Have you evvvvver?!?!?!  It’s my duty to avoid accidents and drive carefully while basking in the comfort of knowing that these guys have my back as far as reminding me when they need me to pay them for a new licence!  Shirkers!  :-\ 

As much as I don’t have it?  I kinda like order.  Orderly things, like…Summer must be hot.  Reminders must be posted off to vehicle owners!  Grrrrrrrrrrrrrrr!  Winter must be cold.  My hips should not grow in my sleep!  Grrrrrrrrrrrrrrr!  Spring must be bright.  I should be in bed in this weather!  Grrrrrrrrrrrrrrr!  Autumn must be crisp.  You know?  Like that!  Order!  However?  With the current state of affairs?  I might as well be meowwwwwing and have a fat grey cat sit cross-legged on my bed, writing my blog!  Roles and responsibilities are allllllll messed up! 

Listen to that rain?  It's as angry as the late, great, Bernie Mac's eyes sometimes are at each other!  Where within those irate moments of them folding their arms across their chest....mmmmmmm?!?  I’m well aware of that but admit it?  They'd fold them if they had arms.  And turn their backs.  No, not backs.  Pupil's!  Towards each other?  Goodness?!?!?  What the hell was I getting at?!!!!!!!!  I honestly need to get a handle on that.  No wonder they’re not sending me my vehicle licence renewal.  They’re tryna tell me something.  Something like, “Please stop operating heavy machinery in public?  You can’t even drive a story to its point.” 

Alllllllllllllllll I was trying to explain to you wassssss?  The dilemma that I find myself in at times.  Last night was one of those times.  The Bernie Mac Show started.  I sat up straight because I enjoy paying attention to him.  He is hilarious!  But I always find myself touching my ear and shooting quick, questioning, glances to side of me...almost self-consciously.  There are times that I even shift over a bit.  ‘Cause, sometimes?  His eyes....fight.  Sometimes they refuse to work as a team.  I don’t know if they’re having soundless tiffs about whether there’s place for both of them in his face or what?  One wants to be the main eye, or...?  Suggestions are welcome!  But it’s during those periods that I say to myself, “If there were no television screen right now?  And I was sitting right in front of him?  Man, I wish he was still alive and there really was no television screen ‘cause that’s one man I would’ve loved to have met in person.  Jusssssst to hear him say, ‘Sum-ma-ma-b@#th’ in person!  Jusssssst to experience the confusion first-hand about whether he was looking at my right eye and my left ear.  Simultaneously?” 

Someone needs to have a stern talk with these seasons.  God?  I’m thinking that you might have to take this one.  I usually send Wendy in to do the hardcore jobs, but she’s complaining about the weather too, so I’m guessing she’s not having any luck with threatening the elements either!  You’d think that making up songs would get us heard?  “Rain, rain go away, come another washing day..."  And all of that.  "It's rainnning men...hallelujah..."  Inappropriate but?  Can you picture that?  Raining men?  Flora wouldn't benefit, that's for sure!  Instead?!  Beds of roses would be crushed back into the soil from whence they came!  Then there’s,  "…Sinnnnnnnging in the rain..." 

Nnnnnnnnnnnn...I think, strike that last one.   

Singing equates happiness.  At least, it does to me.  And my cousin, Alison!  We won’t mention Gillian.  She gave Luther Vandross a bad name in New York.  Haaaaahahahahahaha!!!!!!  I can still hear it.  She sounded more like Lorraine Vandross.  But even when I'm belting out sad songs, I'm happy.  Just as a matter of interest though?  You didn’t express any, but freezing brings out my generous side.  ;-)  I firmly believe that I could’ve been a very successful singer.  Interesting huh?  Jusssssss needed a good enough singing voice!  And a record deal.  Orrr?  Milli Vanilli's sense of bravery!  Not sure how I would conquer my shyness but I’m convinced if that if I sang well enough, my fans wouldn’t have minded if I stood behind the curtain.

That’s why I said to strike that “singing in the rain” song!  The very last thing we need is to give Spring a false sense of security in thinking that we’re happy…oh so happy with this rain that when we hear the ratatatat of wet drops on the carport?  We then sprint outside to purposely get drenched while the raindrops fill our open mouths and warp our soprano pitch.  Dunno about you and half the people who audition for Idols?  But my soprano pitch is naturally warped.  I don't need a mouthful of raindrops to prove it!

Sweet and Sour

There's something just awesome about meeting your #1 blog follower whose since become your Facebook friend...in person...and not be evicted from her property within the first ten minutes! Whoop whoop!!! That's a sign that you made a good first impression! ^_^! Plus she gives you shoes! And food! And gives you the run of her kitchen to make tea! And a party-pack for your God-daughter who gave you strict instructions to bring back bubblegum as if you told her you were going to the store. I guess "party" and "shop" sounds the same to beautiful little girls?!

And now? Debbie is officially more than just a voiceless face on a social networking site. ^_^! I got solid proof of that because she has big dogs. One gigantic brown one with glow-in-the-dark eyes, the size of a medium bear! Nooooooooh?? Not the eyes? The dog! The other one was black and had very sharp features and great posture, I must say! Number three? I didn't see but I chose to accept that. I definitely was not about to roam all over the yard looking for it, in case I smelled of raw meat. I never do but there's always a first time. Come to think of it? Fear must smell like raw meat! Or dog pellets. I've heard many people say, don't show them that you're afraid 'cause they can smell fear and that's when they will try to bite you! I dunno about you? But I can't act not afraid when my knees are knocking. But the fact that she didn't give them the "eat" command while pointing in my direction?! I took that as a sure sign that we got along quite well in person!

Wendy and I thoroughly enjoyed spending time with her and her family on Saturday. Shhhhhhh....don't tell her, but I took back-up just in case things got a little one-sided. Like if was having too good a time and she wasn't and then she tried to have me forcefully removed. HA! Ay? She also told me how apprehensive she was about meeting me? Don't give me that "howwww could you?!?" Look. She made sure that she was surrounded by friends and family so if things turned tricky, she'd have back-up. Hahahhahahahha! She's gonna kill me when she reads this. Hahhahahahaha! But that's okay, 'cause she'll have to wait three months to do that and by then she'd have gotten over it. If not? Christmas won't be the same for me this year.

But?! She even gave Wendy shoes! Heh-heh-heh! I hearrrr it! But that?!? Is not gonna get you shoes! I can hear a flurry of click click click, search Debbie Surname, add friend, message Debbie Surname..."Hi there, can I meet you in person?" Just 'cause you need shoes! Uh-uhhhhhhhhh! Hold it! Stores open at 8.30am! And they might just carry your size, depending on whether the sales assistant is in a selling mood. If she's religiously angry about having to work on the Sabbath? Then unfortunately for you, every single pair in the size or colour that you ask for? You will have jusssssst missed the last pair! That's when you're gonna be wishing that you knew Debbie!

Speaking of shoes? Summer looked at my sneakers yesterday and asked me, "Whhhhhy you always got boys shoes onnnn?" I tried to pretend as though I didn't hear her by continuing to knit the slouch cap that she asked me to have finished before she left? Yep! I was bullied by a five year old who wasn't taking being ignored so she repeated herself. Now? Since I'm gonna be forty...soon. Enough!? I didn't wanna give her the impression that alllllll soon-enough-to-be-forty-year-old females end up hard of hearing so I eventually stopped mindlessly twisting purple wool around silver metal needles and gave her the honest "because they're comfortable, my sugar" speech. Well? Sentence. It's hardly a speech if its just one sentence. A speech should be at least a paragraph and therefore? One line simply can't be a paragraph! Unless you start it on a new line and immediately after the period, you start a new paragraph?

Like this.

Then it is. But the point that i so often take the long and winding road to, is that I couldn't have the child stressing herself out about losing her hearing as she ages, you know? I'm not that kinda God-mother. I may be weak to Godchildren bullying but I'm not inconsiderate. Besides? Experience has taught me that any and all stress should be saved for the overnight expansion and contraction of hips and thighs.

As a follow-up? I did infact bring her back bubblegum from Ziara's party! My reward? "Cannnnn you suck off the sour pleazzzzzze?" And then when she saw my face distorting from the way that my tastebuds were protesting!? Didn't matter! The way that my eyes shut and my jaw clenched from being grabbed and pulled tight by the extreme sensation that she was refusing to experience? Didn't matter! Summer was hell-bent on enjoying that bubblegum. At my expense. She then sweetly notes all of the negative effects it was having on me, "You don't like sour things too?" while relentlessly waiting for the job to get done! >_<!

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