Gravity Bruises!

It's official! I have no life! I spent Friday night, in the company of Big Corn bites and a Snicker, watching Disney channel, WITHOUT being forced to! Sigh....I guess it was a consolation that I knew allllll their lines. And expressions. :-/ Annnd outfits. I think it's only fitting that I learn their real names! I owe them at least that. Aside from boring the...the...? What colour am I? No really? You may think I'm just rambling, but? What colour AM I? UuuUrgh. Not knowing just ruined my sentence! And I don't really care about colour! It's nothing but a skin tone. I don't care if I was neon purple, but if I KNEW I was neon purple then I coulda at least said, "Aside from boring the neon purple offa me...." Y-you know?
Did you enjoy roller coasters as a child? Uhhhh, not me. Not as a child, not as an adult! Not even as a beautiful butterfly in my next life! I'm as adventurous as a dry sugar bean. I prefer my heart on the right hand side of my chest, thank you very much! Kinnnnda hard to swallow when it's lodged in your throat!
I remember my dad would take us for a drive every Sunday. Sometimes to the fun fare. One time? I wore a red jersey. Yeahhhhhh. Red. A red...jersey. Why is that the only thing I remember from that day? I'm sure I had fun. At the fare! Not like I fell off the top of the big wheel or nothing and I needed to block out that day! Maybe? Maybe if I did, I woulda remembered more but I don't. They say that the baddddd experiences cement themselves in your brain.
Like the first and last time I got on a trampoline!
Again?! I wore red! WTH??? And I WAS having fun! WTF?!? Have I just uncovered the reason why I don't wear much red orrrrr have much fun anymore?
We'd all gone away to the Drakensburg Mountains for a weekend. The trampoline was a jungle gym away from the tennis court so once we were done there. We moved over to the trampoline. I had my camera so I was like, "Everyone have a turn! I'll take pics!" You know how cool the pictures look when you're in the air and stuff instead of standing on the floor and stiff? They're jumping yayyyyyyyyy and I'm clicking, clicccccck!
'Til it was myyy turn.... :-(
I started a new paragraph now because for a few minutes? My thumbs just settled on the q and delete buttons on my keypad. Composing themselves. They too, remember the pain. Our pain. The initial joy of soaring through the air and acting cute for my jumping pics? Stopped there. Right at initial! So, I'm in the air. The big galloot that I am. Feeling as free as the butterfly I'm coming back to earth as. I was practicing because failing as a human? I wanna be the best damn butterfly I can be!
Kent! O-G! Decides that he should make use of the trampoline while I'm not using it. Since I was in the air! As if I was just gonna hang around and hover 'til I was ready to come back down? Did he not see that I was on the decent? Laws of gravity and shit?!? I wasn't a butterfly YeT! The boy jumps on the trampoline while I'm on my way down.
One second............................the feeling of the not knowing where I would land? Has overwhelmed me. Even though I know where I landed. It still has that mystery effect on me. I wasn't ready to die. Or break something. I'd arrived in one piece and I had visions all weekend of leaving that way! That was all that I kept saying to myself after I barely touched the black surface and was once again soaring through the air. The tree appeared to have side stepped as I contemplated grabbing onto one of its branches if I could. I had no idea that even wood could be selfish! Lemme tell you? Don't mistake its outstretched branches as a sign of offering support!
Well? There was concrete around the trampoline. Why they don't put some kind of spongey thing around trampolines for when your nephew suddenly bounces you back off of it? I do not know! But I landed on the cement asking myself am I dead yet and if I am? How can I still be in pain in heaven.
The side of my thigh was bruised along with the outside of my foot and ankle and as I'm typing this? I'm reflecting on the fact that? I have pictures of this. Whoever had the camera, still stood and took a picture of me on the cement in pain, confused about my very existence annnnnnnd moaning in my mind (the pain temporarily stumped my ability to speak) about "Jesus, hold me!" instead of running to my rescue!
Today I have two things that I MUST do. Find out what colour I am and who exactly it was that took that picture of me!
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And the Award Goes To……?

Gone are the days!  When you did the time for doing the crime!  Nowadays?  All you need to do is have a stern talk with your kidneys?  And VIOLA!  Early release from fifteen years in prison!  The agreement though has to be that they pretend to be failing jusssssssst in enough time to get you out of the mess you put yourself in!

But, wait?!  I hear shuffling.  Sensing that clarity is vital here.  This does not apply if you’re just the man on the stree-eet!  Sing it!  Believe me!  Even your kidneys will wave the back of their hand to you like, “Pfffffft!  Person, please!”  They won’t even respect you enough to call you, owner or something endearing.  Just to prove that?  Six of them were meant to be released because they were too ill to remain in prison?  Three of those six have since died.  See?  No loyalty of the organs!

Now?  To avoid getting your feelings hurt by your own body parts?  Before you go lecturing your organs in vain?  First, look around.  You can make a checklist if you like.  Well more like a compare list!  Once you’ve successfully compared the man on the street to the big shot powers that be and duly noted that you were on the losing team?  Last but not least?  Double check the depth of your pockets.  If they’re empty, then unfortunately, you’re officially part of the street gang that cannot simply consult your inner self to assist you in overturning justice! 

I’ll give you a minute to inhale that.  Meditate for a second if you must.  Hummmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm!!!!!!!!!  Breath deeeeeeeeeply as you take step after small step to join the rest of us on the barren side of option land!  You know things are bad when you can’t even turn to yourself for help. 

But?!?!  Other’s can.  As they are found out and caught and arrested in a dramatic episode of Days of our Crimes!  The barreners?  That’s us by the way.  Cheer in victory.  For 13.333333 infinity percent of their sentence.  That’s what corruption-convicted former police commissioner Jackie Selebi will have served as he walks out of prison today.  Two out of fifteen years.  That’s just wrong.  I don't care if he looks like Morgan Freeman.  I mean?  Even in school your teacher would yell at you for getting two out of fifteen! 

I saw Debbie’s facebook status earlier so I thought?  Hmmmmmmm?  Lemme go see what is going on so I can tell the six people in Germany and Russia that have been reading my blog, what her and half the nation is so angry about.  I will attach the link?  Go and jump on my own head nine times?  And then?  Go ask my boss if I can go home early to get some “palliative care”.  Wish me luck!

O_0

Sbu Ndebele is Minister of Correctional Services now?!!!!  He was?  Just. Minister of Trans…sigh…you know what?  Never-

Nevermind. 

http://mg.co.za/article/2012-07-20-22-jackie-selebi-to-be-released-from-prison-today 

Toxic Reasoning

Nothing thrills me more than knowing I have something sweet and unhealthy to nibble on when I get to work.  Which is why?  Nnnnnot very thrilled right now.  :-/  All I have is high-fibre cereal and cupa-soup!  I’m on the verge of licking that glue on envelopes and pink post-it notes!  But you know what that tells me?  I need two new front tyres!  Yup!  It’s a thrilling day alllll round!  I firmly believe that everything happens for a reason.  Nothing is co-incidence and nothing happens by chance!  Which only means that I don’t have sweets today because I needed to realize that my tyres need replacing.  'Cause you look at your empty desk and think, "What ELSE could go wrong?"  And that causes you to think about what else is going wrong.  You start visualising things and your car pops up in your mind like, "Look, I need new tyres okay?!?!"  O_o!!  And I have now realized that!  Hence my firm belief in reasons!  Don’t fight the way that you’re made aware of things!  

It matters not the source, but the substance.  >_< 

I have no idea if that even makes any sense but it sounded profound!  So ima leave it just like that!  If it’s understood by even one single searching soul out there?  I’m okay with that!  Realizations can come in many different shapes and sizes.  Like wine gums.  The black ones are rectangular and the orange….ones...are….&^%# I am so wishing for wine gums right now!  You think at the time that everything that’s happening to you is just senseless and horrible and unbearable.  That’s how I felt this morning when I walked in and saw my desk empty of store purchased goodies! 

But you think that at the time.  You know it’s a reflex.  No goodies?  Unbearably sad.  Like this L No goodies?  Senselessly horrible things keep happening to me!  And then when you’re all laid out and sick on your office floor, curled up in the fetal position from the envelope licking?  You go through, while you’re moaning.  You go through all the should haves and shouldn’t haves in your mind.  You can’t hold a pen ‘cause your stomach is too sore and then you fail at mouthing the words to your desk, whose your only friend at the time, since your tongue insists on sticking to your palate.  Glue will do that.  So you have to make mental notes.  Nothing wrong with your mental.  It’s just mad at you, that’s all. 

So mentally, you begin talking to yourself, “When that happens again?  Rather eat a spoon of sugar.  You know?”  You’re saying “you know”, like it’s not coming out of your own mind but shame, you’re delirious from pain.  And then when you look back on that a few days later?  Because realizations don’t take one day, normally.  They get deeper by the day.  So as the days pass, you then see the entire lesson in it.  Sugar!  Rather than office stationery.  And patience.  If you had just waited ‘til lunch time, you wouldn’t have been ailing from intoxicating your body with glue.

Even if you kick your toe on the corner of the wall.  That ouch ouch ouch delay that it causes?  You’re being delayed for a reason.  In my case it would be because maybe a cockroach needs to pass, and then with the delay of holding my toe and cursing at the wall about “Just damn appear out of nowhere!”  I would miss it.  And my knees won’t get all weak and I won’t feel like fainting.  My paining toe would have preventing me from feeling weak and possibly fainting.  I may have been alone at home and nobody woulda been there to help me if I fainted.  So?  Uhmmm-M!  Reason for happening!  Nuf said!

I’m somewhat perturbed that people have gone to the moon, yet?  We still need to replace the tyres on our vehicles.  Not a one person has come up with anti-smoothing car tyres orrrrr!  Or!?!  Thicker rubber and deeper…grooves so that their life spans are doubled!  A rocket that can zoom into space!!!  They can spy on the stars with satellites and all but they can’t anti-smooth rubber!  Tsk!  Tsk!  Tsk!  That’s as troubling, to me, as is the fact that they haven’t yet found a way to just make sweet things suddenly appear in people’s offices when they’re holding the sticky parts of envelopes two inches away from their tongues! 

Where are the Einstein’s of this world?  Clearly none of them have a sweet tooth, or know what comfort eating is all about.  Someone?!!!  Sommmmmmeone!!!!!!!!!  Do you think someone heard me?  Someone!!!?!  Please go depress an Einstein so that they can find a way to make the comfort eating experience less of a “go out to the store and buy your comforting sugary stash” and more of “wowwww (smile), how’d THAT get there! (smile more and unwrap)” one!  There are times when the only way one sees the urgency of certain things?  Is when someone makes them see it through their own eyes.

Bash or the Books?

Happy 94^th birthday, Mr. Mandela!  Ninety whole four!  Wow!  Best wishes and unless someone’s kept it a huge secret?  Thank you for not forcing us to pay for a party we woulda never afforded to give our ownselves!  Unlike some other people I know!  I’m not mentioning names, but…xyZ! 

That!?  Wasn’t a hint!  Nohhhh!  I was testing myself.  Just to keep…you know?  Keep the brain working.  They say that if you recite the last three letters of the alphabet daily?  It helps your memory.  Don’t?!  Don’t quote me.  To anyone.  Don’t be at the dinner table with your new inlaws and yell, “Guess what I learnt today?  That random rambling chick said that if you recite the….!”  It won’t end well.  Just…take what you’ve learnt today?  Here on my blog.  And know it.  That’s all you need to do, is know it.  Going forward?  Just recite your last three letters of the alphabet silently, and in the privacy of your own person.  If you’re caught and questioned about what you’re doing?  Rock.  You can hug your pen if you’re in the office.  Rock back and forth and hug your pen and whisper, “I miss…writing.”  Then sniff and point to the computer.  You won’t have company for very long.  You might also not be in the company for much longer either!  You know what?  Maybe it would just be best to exercise your brain in your car, alone.    

Woke up today to rain on take the bin down to the street day, and part three of my headache!  This one must be have always aspired to be a Jean Claude van Damme sequel…uuuurgh!  Now because that didn’t happen, it’s taking it’s frustrations out on me.  Pfffffffft!  As if I said fail acting class!  Okay, okayyyyy!  We all know that you don’t actually have to pass acting class to be a Jean Claude van Damme sequel but I was just…just trying not to be unkind…Jean Claude van Damme has feelings too!  But then you all start shouting and pressuring me about…”Come-onnnnnnn!  You know that’s a big fat lie!”  Excu-uuuuse me for trying to be nice on Mandela Day!    

Thank goodness it’s not my birthday!  When I turn the age I’m turning in three months time?  I really don’t want my day starting off painful, wet and dirty!  I have a vision of how it’s going to begin…. 

Sunshine shall greet me as it peeps and squeezes through the blades of my bedroom blinds.  Its only purpose?  To gently nudge me out of slumber.  It shall stretch out its rays all the way from the far reaching sky until it tickles the surface of my skin causing my sleepy eyes to flutter at the feel of its soft kiss upon my cheek.  My mouth shall curl up into an indulgent grin…a fitting response to its gestured whisper of, ”Happy birthday, my #1 fan.  I came just for you!”  Plus?!?!  It’s a Thursday!  So bin day will have passed!  10^th!  Bin day!  Perfect!  All I have to work on now is making sure I don’t have a headache!

Far as how it’s going to end?  Did you have a big bash for your 40^th?  Would you have another one if you could turn forty again?  Being a Thursday and then a work day?  Nnnnnnnnnn, I don’t know whether I want a big celebration or not.  Not because I’m afraid to turn forty or anything?  Not because I’m looking for an excuse not to celebrate it.  Part of me feels that it’s something to be celebrated.  Just that, Damon has a test on the 12^th of October.      

Limited Goodness...O_O!

Sooooooh?  What have you decided to do for sixty seven minutes on International Mandela Day tomorrow?  In case you haven’t heard yet, you’re supposed to do something nice and kind and good for someone else.  Mr. Mandela will turn 94 years old tomorrow and his gift will be world peace.  For sixty seven minutes of one day.  Wow!

What happens before and after your chosen sixty seven minutes?  Hey!  I’m shrugging my shoulders because for me?  It makes no sense.  Look?  I really like the concept and I don’t mean to be pessimistic about the gesture of goodwill.  But I don’t like the limitation.  It means that it’s okay to wake up tomorrow.  Go buck wild!  Your alarm then sounds, telling you, “WAIT!  It’s time for the sixty seven minutes of goodness!”  Be good.  Good.  Good.  Good.  And when the clock strikes sixty seven minutes later?  Things revert back to…As.  You.  Were!  Reminds me of that game, K  I  N  G spells kinnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnng!  STOP!  

What if you’re helping your neighbour mow his lawn?  Not that neighbour silly!  The other one.  No-no!  I didn’t suck that outa my thumb.  It was one of the suggestions they made on the website I just came across.  “How to do your bit for Mandela Day…” 

What are you going to do if you’re not finished yet and the sixty eighth minute suddenly shows up?  

“Ohhhkie-dokes, Mr. Brown!  That was all that the time allowed for!!  See ya!”  And promptly march off with a third of the yard still looking like the amazon jungle?  Leaving poor Mr. Brown speechless and angrily chewing his gums thinking, “Why didn’t Mandela fight longer for peace and freedom?  At least another thirteen years!  Thirteen more minutes was all he would have needed to finish the yard!  DRAT!!!”  

Ay, purse those lips all you want but you know that some people are technical like that?  And still defensive about it, “Haai!  Haai!  Haai!  They said sixty seven minutes!  If we were meant to be nice for longer, they would have said that!  Sixty seven minutes for sixty seven years.  Equal is equal.  I’m finished being good now.  I did my bit!” 

Why not just say, “Do a good deed for somebody on Mandela Day!”  No time limit.  Thus, leaving Mr. Brown allllll warm and fuzzy, instead!  What did poor ol’ Mr. Brown ever do to deserve that time limit and a half-cleaned yard?  He’s always been a good neighbour.  I think.  Mr. Brown?  If you’re reading this right now and tomorrow you’re offered a free mowing of your lawn.  As if you were refusing a bag of snuff?  Just say no.  Your gums would thank you for it.  There see...I've started with my good deeds already and it's not even Wednesday yet.  

I say, forget about the minute factor and just go for it tomorrow.  Just spread the love and kindness all day.  You don’t even have to be specific.  You don't have to make list.  No, I’m gonna wash an old lady’s clothes today.  Or I'm gonna hand a stranger a chocolate today.  Or I'm gonna cut Mr. Black’s grass because I offered to cut Mr. Browns' but he threw a brick at me and mumbled something about snuff….just.  Be nice.  Be random.  And be responsible.     

Did You Miss Me?

^_^!  I did!  I missed us allllll.  The past weeks have been two of my worst and no, I’m not outa the woods just yet!  Just when you think that sense of calm you felt meant that the storm was passing?  Uh-uh!  All it is, is bringing truth to the saying…”The calm before the storm!”  At one point I just felt like a zombie...roaming the earth.  And filing.  Aaaaargh!  Do you love filing as much as I do?  I don't.  I'd swop the paper age for the ice age any day!  Annnnnnnd?  The trees just swayed enchantingly in support of my last comment!  I am now in the midst of a daydream.  White, fluffy ice surrounds me.  Frost bite doesn’t exist!  Brain freeze?  Mmmmmaybe!  At any given moment, I am able to just scoop up and enjoy the sweet taste of heavens icy raindrops melting against the flat of my tongue…crunching impatiently here and there because I can’t wait for the next mouthful.   

You hear that?!?  No?!  That loud screeching sound?  You didn't hear it?!?  Concentrate!  You know when you're driving and suddenly an indian myna bird flies into your car with a piece of samoosa in its mouth and with the shock of that, you accelerate instead of brake and then your senses return only when you're two metres from the car in front of you and you brake and skid and brake and skid and your face starts distorting as if you can already feel the pain of your forehead being punched by the driver of the car you're about to hit?  I'm gonna be honest right now!  It's happened to me...nevvvver!  But it’s something that I'm sure will cause the screeching sound that I'm trying to describe to you right now!  Yep!  My ice daydream just came to that screeching halt! 

And why?  Because school has begun again today!  Uuuuuuuurgh!  That means that breezing through the evenings without having to worry about tests, and homework and uniforms are a thing of the past…three weeks.  And see?  Damon just called me to say, “Ma?  Can you please print me pictures of things that can fly?”  Day one.  Should I include a picture of my shoe?  It flies at the sight of a cockroach? 

Can’t get this song out of my head……..“Wherrrrre is the misssssssing one?!?”  That's a song by Stevie Wonder.  It says, “I'm tryna find my whereabouts, what shall I do?  When nothing seems to follow through.  In me, trying to find my whereabouts, I'm turning blue.  But wait I may have found a clue.  My whereabouts are somewhere lost in yesterday with you”...nice song. 

We're always searching for something or the other, aren't we?  From that one sock that didn't come outa the wash.  To that one perfect solution to a problem.  To that one person you always believed is out there waiting to be the mate to your soul.  Just….searching.  Endlessly.  Uhm.  I remember how endlessly I searched for my silver dress!  :-/  I still haven’t been able to locate it yet!  Maybe it’s out looking for the sock I lost and one day they shall both make their safe return…along with my sense of self.  ‘Cause I’ve since lost that too.  Lemme tell you though…I’ll be mad as hell, if my sock prances in wearing my dress without my permission.

Bye-bye Blog

It's with a truly heavy heart that I type this entry. Life? And it's curve balls, huh? Eh! They say what doesn't kill us makes us stronger. And they normally say that when we're at our weakest. I'm here to tell "they" that those words don't help, although I'm well aware that the intent is well placed. Just? Doesn't reallllllly help. Unless you've swallowed a fly in your sleep and hoped you'd wake up alive? Then yeah! Not when you feel as though you're in the middle of explosions. I used to enjoy domino's. When they we're black and plastic and had white dots on them. But, when someone so cleverly attached them to an effect? Not. So. Much. Fun anymore.

Right now? Even though Geese did warn me that I'd be sitting right here, in this very spot at some point? Alot has happened. Ever since I can remember, I've worn these rose-coloured glasses. They're pink. As tomboy-ish as I am, I like pink. And the only time I take them off is when disaster has struck and it's to wipe the dust from flying rubble off of them. Annnnd back they go.

Learn from that, if anything. Warnings? They come from all types of different sources. Be it a person, or a premonition? Or a dream, or a blatant in-your-face act? Most times, we ignore them because of, well? The rose-coloured glasses orrrr the temporary discomfort prevention might cause, or we don't wanna be seen as the boogie-man, or just? Plain ol' misplaced trust. Too much misplaced trust.

It's been..... Wayyyyy too long a week. I honestly tried to blog yesterday but my mind was just blank. Packed to capacity, but blank, if that makes any sense. I tried to blog again today, until I faced up to the reality that I'm as uninspired as a broken twig right now. Broken twigs, last time I checked, just laid on the floor, dried up and became part of the soil. They can't write or grow or recreate themselves. Let alone be funny and jovial about how their purpose has changed. Something about detachment, I guess?

I suppose what I'm trying to say is that I have to go. Thank you all for the support you've given me as far as my blog. I hope? That once life becomes less draining than it feels right now? And my blogsession returns? I hope to come back and share more with you. I've had as much fun sharing my rambling random thoughts as I know some of you have had reading them.

If I taught you anything about anything? I'd hoped that it was to Ramble Responsibly! By that I simply mean that there are nice ways of saying not so nice things. Taking that approach? Less people in the world hurt. If your wife's butt looks big in those jeans, say..."Yes, but it's the best butt I've seen in my life!" She will appreciate your honesty annnnd the boost of confidence! Trust me. If your child cooked you a horrible meal, try a spoon of it and say..."I'm not hungry right now? But I know I'd enjoy it better once I'm hungry again." Then make sure he/she doesn't see you throwing it in the outside bin. You get the picture, huh?

Until then...
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Poppin’ and Leakin’

I honestly don't know what I'd do without this phone!  You know the saying, "Once you go BLACK(berry), you never go back!"  Heh-heh-heh!  Nice slogan, huh?  Blackberry!  Loved by many, cursed by more!  Saturday that passed?  The signal was down for most of the day.  You knew exactly who it was that owned a BB.  All you had to do was look around for those breathing flames out of their nostril, and biting their bottom lip with their top teeth mouthing the sixth letter of the alphabet!

Reminds me of when I was younger.  We had a mulberry tree at the back-side of our house.  Houses have back-sides too!  You know, the side at the back?  The back of the side of the house.  Uuuuurgh!  Easier to visualize than to explain!  Much like the pain from kicking the top of your toe open.  If you’re home right now?  Check!  You’ll see that I’m not just being my silly self!  Anyway, we used to pick the ripe ones and put them into a packet, smash them up with curry powder, salt and vinegar!  And m-m-m!  He cut the tree down!  We used to climb the peachy tree on the kitchen side of the house!  M-M-M!!!  He?  Cut that one down too.  I’m starting to see a pattern here!  Guava tree?  O_o!  Gone!  Avocado tree?  Thing of the past! 

Okayyyyyy, so nowwwwwwwww I get iT.  This!  Is why I turned to sweets and chocolates!  He cut all of the dietary goodness out of my life.  I need to go home after work and tell my dad.  “My hips said that it’s allllllll your fault, not mine.  I was just compensating.  That’s all.”  I feel lighter already.  Me and my hips have been at war for years over this!  But today?  Right now.  Here!  It’s finally come to light that it wasn’t because of my callous cravings for sweet things, and it had nothing to do with my teeth either!  It had everything to do with my father callously taking a chopper and aiming it at our fruit trees!  See?  See that smooth shift of callousness that just went on?  Like a breakdance wave!

OMG!!  I watched Breakdance with Turbo and Ozone last year again when I was over at Geese’s?  Russia copied it for me because I wanted to bring it home for my little breaker, Damon!  HAAAAAAHAHAHAHAHAHA!  Lemme ask you this?  How did we enjoy watching a man in a midriff?  More than once?  I kept my eyes on the TV as the movie played and thought.  And thought and blinked and thought.  And frowned at the last thought, “Mannnnn, this was so popular when we were young!  But?  He?  He has a midriff on?  ShhhiT!”  Remember the A-team?  And Night Rider?  Have you watched reruns of those now that 25 odd years have passed?  They look like old pictures that have faded over time, don’t they?  And how small were our minds?  On a Friday, after Alison and I negotiated who would be on the couch next to my mum.  We would be sitting at the edge of our seats with the excitement!  Waiting for Kit to fly or Hannibal to say, “I love it when a plan comes together!”  Watch it now and see how all you’re thinking is, “I’d love it if the TV exploded  right about now!” 

We were crazy about breakdancing.  All the children our age and older from across the road!  Some journeyed from near and far.  Believe that if you want.  It could be true, but I wasn’t sure.  I just added it into the story to give it some distance.  A story with a measure of space is always more interesting.  I’ll be more than happy to demonstrate!  “He walked to the shop.”  Input distance aspect.  “He tirelessly walked seven kilometers further than the shop actually was and promptly got lashed from one end of his backside to the next, when he got home late.”   Do you see how distance affects the sentence and sets the scene of firstly how far he walked annnnnd secondly, how much of his backside was belted?

But!  Back to breakdance!  Me?  I?  And I was not the only one!  With things that feed newborns?  Doing the worm on the tarmac!  Tarmac’s are cemented!  HELLLLLLLOHHH!  Grown neighbours!  Could you have at least told me, in my weak moment of pretending to be Phylum Annelida?  That I could have seriously injured the part of me that would ensure the health of my children?!  What if they popped?!!!  What if I didn’t see a big rock?  Not big rock, I’m overplaying my role with that one.  A big stone?  A sharp one!  That’s jagged?  What if?!  Would I be sitting here right now?!  And the answer is?  Yessss I would!  So I have failed to make THAT POINT!  Of it affecting me sitting here.  ‘Cause I would be.  Just with thin children and a hole in my one breast.  Where the milk would have leaked out. 

Aaaargh, are you going to argue about everything I say today?  How do you know the milk wouldn’t have leaked out?  Did you ever have a whole in your breast?  With milk in it?  I haven’t but I almost did if I did the worm and never saw that stone!  It’s the same as a plastic bottle of Clover 2% Low fat milk.  Poke one.  Go ahead.  Poke it!  Tell me if everything that’s in it, stays in it….ay?  I’m just saying.  Logic is logic and if you don’t believe me, then try it.   Just?  Try it with a plastic bottle of cows milk, not with your…plastic bottle of cows milk.

Back to the Future

Do you ever wonder what life would be like if you went back to being, say a year old?  And just lived it all over again?  There’s no question about the fact that if I was ever granted that wish, I would sleep more!  Voluntarily too!  At a year old, I had no inkling that as an adult?  Sleep would be the one thing that life constantly deprives you of.  Hell!  I didn’t even know I would grow up to be an adult.  All I cared about was my mum’s never-ending supply of milk.  ‘Til I was cFoIuVgEh.   They told me that as I grew up, I would curse at my mum…”I want my %^&$en titty!”  Not for one minute, do I believe that!  There’s just no way I could’ve said words like, titty!  I want proof.  I’ve seen my baby pictures.  All twelve.  I wasn’t saying that word in any of them!

We all know and have experienced it.  Kids?  Their eyeballs are bloodshot!  Little bodies feel ragged and drained and possibly injured from literally running wild all day, yet, come time to sleep?  The war is on!  It's taking every ounce of energy they have left to not close their eyes!  And when it’s not working?  When their eyelids are no longer co-operating?  Then they get all mad with us.  Like we are sohhhh evil for “doodoo baba-ing” them.  Lemme tell you?  If I could go back, I'd be theeee most rested child that there ever was!  Sealy would use me as their mascot.  I’d sleep evvvvvery chance I got.  They’d have to have smelling salts on hand for me! 

Like now?  I'm yawwwwwwwwwwning. Ahhhhhhhh, ‘scuse me!  I needed to go to bed last night, like I should have done thirty eight and a half years ago.  Except for this time?  I wasn’t fighting sleep.  I am an adult.  And with adulthood comes responsibility.  So because of responsibility, I couldn’t sleep.  It’s responsibility’s fault!  Annnnnd the ex.  Don’t forget!  So, in actual fact?  It’s the ex’s responsibility that I didn’t sleep!  Nnnnnnnnnnnnnn!  Maybe not.  Don’t mind me.  I’m just tired.  But?!

A-HEM!

Seriously though, do you ever wish that you could just….go back to when your child was born, so that you could right the mistakes you made while raising them?  Is it ever too late to do that?  Okayyyyyyy-okay-A, don’t all scream at once.  Even I know that by 56 years old, it’s too late!  By then you forgot that they’re even your child.  “Mildred?  Is that you, dear?”  “No, Ma, it’s me, Andrew!”  “Okay, Patricia!” 

What about if you could go back to say…?  A year before your child was born?  If it were the case, would you be able to be honest with yourself, and admit, “I shouldn’t have had kids, because I can’t properly deal with the aspects of being a parent.”  Geese and I have had many discussions over parenting.  One thing he always says…”being a parent is not as easy as it appears to be.”  And it’s not.  Sure?  It looks cute and cuddly when you watch a mother and her baby interact.  But like boerboels?  They grow.  Very big.  Sometimes you have to even put them down.  L  I feel relatively emotional today because like many others, I could have done a better job.  And I should have done a better job.  I was certain that I knew all I needed to know about adequately raising children.  From a very young age.  My dolls?  Can tell you just how wonderful a parent I was. 

And that’s in fact where the trouble starts.  Marvel and Company need to discontinue the manufacturing of dolls because they give females the utterly wrong idea of what parenting is truly all about.  Firstly?  Where’s the father at?  Right there!  Right.  There!  Wrong message!  What do we see when we look around today?  We see young girls, with children.  The father?  Is now with someone else.  Expecting his second child.  Or?  The young girl is with someone else, expecting her second child.  The concept of family has faded into past generations.  And why?  Because of dolls.  And I know that for a fact because my granny always said that she had eleven kids because they were so poor and had no TV.  I already told you that remember!  So?  Further deduction would be that they wouldn’t have had money for dolls, either.  My parents are still together.  Their entire generation, is still together and have had kids with each other.  Not each other, each other like in the broad sense of the word, but with each, other! 

The similarities are so remote, when you’re taking care of a pretty plastic child, who has no voice, no ideas, no hormones, no emotions and nails that don’t grow?  It’s like flesh and…plastic!  It pollutes your mind with falsified expectations.  They will sit when you make them.  Sleep when they’re not at all tired!  Never complain about how you dress them?  But most of all, you never ever have to be concerned with whether they’re making the right decisions.  You never have to question your worth as a parent when you can’t help them deal with the difficulties that life so generously offers.  It’s a farce.  A charade.  I mean, I’ve never gone to my childhood friend and sobbed about, “I don’t know what to do…my doll is going through so much right now!  How do I help her get through it!”

It’s sometimes blinding to see the difference between reality and fairytale.

Displacement Issues

Do you know what I woke up thinking about?  Camping!  Urrrrgh!  WTH?  My subconscious slept on the wrong side of the bed!  Clearlllly!  We’re sohhh not on speaking terms right now!  If there is one thing that I don't miss?  Not one bit.  Is my parents ignoring the fact that they bought me a bed!  And placed it in a warm room right next to our own bath!  Thank goodness we have the ability to grow.  Up.  And say, "You know what?  NO…Torment is for criminals!  Tie my hands behind my back and feed me olives rather!  At least that way I can use my lip muscles to make your life difficult!!"  To give credit where credit is due?  Even though I wished really hard that I wasn't.  We were alive.  While we camped.  That's always fun!    

But for years I never knew what our neighbourhood looked like over Easter and New Year!  Instead we spent those holidays surrounded by both very sober and extremely drunk strangers, and I call some family members, strangers because a few of them turn into someone I don't recognise when they’re drunk.  I can barely keep up with one personality per person.  When the Old Year turned into the New Year, everybody starts banging pots and pans up and down the dusty road between the row of tents!  I’d be asleep in the tent, begging the air, “Just…just shoot me now!”  Like the air had a gun?!?!  Kids, I telya!  The things they believe when they’re desperate!  And I wasssss desperate.  Even a bullet wound woulda offered me solace!  

Feel like I'm about to work through my own "ocean" issues.  What's an acceptable hourly rate for working through your own issues?  Maybe a new pair of boots?  I dunno.  We’re gonna have to negotiate a fair exchange, me and I.  I mean?  Fall asleep on the mattress?  And that’s after the trauma of bathing!  Omg…Starting to sweat!  O_O!  Wake up on the grass because seventeen more people who didn't come with us decided to have a sleepover in our tent!  Hogging our blankets.  While the residents freeze on the grass, not knowing at which point during the night they were either pushed off or just rolled off at their own peril!  Do you know what that does to a person?  Not knowing at which point they were pushed off the mattress or whether they rolled off themselves?  You're stuck between being okay with it, and being angry with someone else!  That uncertainty?  It's draining!  Hoping you weren't laying on an ant heap!  In your sleep, you're asking yourself how you got there!  Still having to hope, "Please don't let me be sleeping on a heap of ants?!?" 

And then all that sand.  Uuuuurgh!  My teeth are attempting to retreat deep into my gums right now.  I can taste the grains!  Too much sand on the beach!  Even in the ocean!  Sand that's looking for a new home in your crotch!  Ewwwwwwwwww!  That's just the worst kinda sand!  Sand with displacement issues!  Those grains should see Doctor Rambler, I'm getting good at sorting out issues!  The city really needs to think about cementing a portion of the sea for people like me.

One year it rained!  You’re trying to tell me that our parent’s didn’t see the thick, black clouds before we left home?  NeeeeeO!  I bet they didn’t even bother looking at the sky that Thursday!  Every bit of our clothing got soaked!  We sat soggy and miserable in the car, while the tent put its hands behind its head, like, "Ahhhhhhhhhh!  Just what I needed today!  Space!"  A-HA!  This has to be why I don't like rain!  Mannnnnn, I'm on a roll today!  I'm digging deep within my past and successfully unravelling my issues with wet things.  First the wet sand, and now, the wet….rain.   

The only thing that I looked forward to was taking a walk along the shore for hours by myself to collect breasts!  I mean shells!  Shells!  I didn’t find the pointy ones!  And I didn’t put two into my bathing suit and pretend that I'd grown breasts in the time it took for me to get from the tent to the shore and back!  I didn’t.  Not one time did I do that!  You’ve got the wrong girl!  It's her!  Not me!  Do not defame my character!  And you're like, "GASSSSSSSP!"  Oh please!  Don't sit there and pretend as if you didn't do that!  You know that we even had spares!  A set of breasts for everyday in case we lost one or both while we slept…cold, itchy and hopeful!  

Asking myself why people say, don’t sit there and pretend?  I find that very closed minded and jumping to conclusion-tious!  Like it’s just assumed that one can’t lean over…and pretend or do a cartwheel…and pretend.  Yet, we pretend in so much that we do!  Paying bills?  We pretend to be happy about giving someone else our money.  Offered second helpings of a dinner you really enjoyed and want more of?  Pretend to be full!  Get out of bed?  Pretend to be energetic about it.  Asked what condoms are used for by a three year old?  Pretend not to faint!  I was just so tired!

I just realized that I’m sitting here (and I am sitting!) trying to prove myself wrong, because I did just say…don’t sit there and pretend, and now my argument is getting rather heated, with me. 

I’m like, “Why do people say that?” 

I respond, “You tell me.  You’re the one who said it!” 

I come back with, “You have a big mouth, you know that!?” 

I counter, “Hmmmmmpf!  That makes two of us!” 

I close with, “Shut up!” 

……………………..silence

Decree of Friendship

Dammit!  Kept telling myself!  "Remember this dream!  Remember this dream!"  Woke up and promptly forgot!  I couldn’t have been dreaming about winning money, because I didn’t wake up depressed when I realized it was work today.  It couldn’t have been me running fast, slowwwwwwly.  I never ever forget those.  All I remember about my dream is that I was sleeping.  In my bed.  So the scene, where it happened and what I was doing?  I got that!  But that’s it.  And now I'm awoke, with no memory of what I did while I was asleep!  I just lost hours of my life that I'll never ever be able to talk about.  Or account for.  Right now, there's a drunk person reading this, mumbling, "It's as if you're describing me!  I feel so close to you right now!"  And I'm saying, "Come any closer and I'll anti-booze you so bad, you'll be holding your liver in your hand!"    

But it's alllllll my ex's fault!  Your eyeballs shot to the left!  I recognise that look of confusion!  When the eyeballs shoot to the left!  Dead giveaway that you haven't been divorced!  We all know that while you’re still married, it's more of a case of your eyeballs being shot AT.  A little advice though, from me to you?  You there!  Johnny walking crooked!  Keep drinking like that?  And you will be the ex!

You see?  When you're divorced?  It's okay to blame the ex for anything that goes wrong in your life.  It's in the decree!  Stated clearly!  Don’t…don’t make eye contact with me.

It states clearly..."With reference to paragraph 9 of Section 3, Point 7, anything that goes wrong in your life, is the ex's fault.  You've been through enough.  No need to carry unnecessary blame for when anything goes wrong in your life!"  They even put that exclamation mark in the end so that you know they're serious.  Like this!  And look at how many times they say, "When anything goes wrong in your life"?  Exclamation marks annnnnd repetition?!  Ay, you don’t have to convince me…twice!  So?  Guess who I'm cursing when I walk into the corner of a table!  “OOOUCH!  DAMN EX!  LOOK WHAT HE %&$#* MADE ME DO!”  Uhmmmmmm-M!  Don't talk about when I blowdry my hair and it starts raining!  “HE KNEW THAT I WAS ^%&^#&*# DOING MY HAIR TODAY!  NOW HE MADE IT RAIN!“  If your decree doesn’t say that?  Use the powers of your mind.  Rearrange the words…like.  I did!  Heh-heh-heh!

When you do that?  When you make it say what you want it to say?  You’re forging a relationship with the decree.  It then becomes more than just a piece of paper.  It becomes the soulmate you had to create.  Maybe a better word for that would be, papermate.  Sheets of flattened wood don’t have souls.  So, you create that relationship.  A take-take relationship.  Anything goes wrong in your life?  You TAKE out your decree and read what you want it to say.  You then TAKE the blame and throw it on your ex.

A plus to this?  Nobody gets hurt.  You’re feeling lighter.  Paper doesn’t feel…and your ex doesn’t even know you’re blaming him.  He/She just wonders why, more and more, they’re finding themselves bent over like the Hunchback of Notra Dame.  Even that’s easy to fix.  If they even begin to suspect that you have something to do with their newly-formed posture?  When they come by to fetch the kids and they’re complaining about sore, heavy shoulders and a rounding back?  Just stay calm and…suggest a chiropractor.  ‘Cause if you start with, “I never did anything!  I didn’t blame you for anything!  Why?  Why you looking at me like you wanna shoot at my eyeballs.  We’re not married anymore!”  Then you might as well just teach him how to blame you each time he looks at his copy of decree.  You’ve already let the cat out of the bag.  Just go all the way and tell him our secret, then delete my blog link from your computer and phone so he/she doesn’t know where you got such great advice from.