Wednesday, February 24, 2010

Something to ponder

I'm amazed at how self-destructive I can be.

Honestly. Take today for example, I am supposed to go to the bank to get some money so I can buy groceries. But that would include getting properly dressed, combing my hair and getting out of the house. I'd rather just not have ice cream, run really low on facewash and bake my own bread. :)

Although, really, I'm scared to go to the bank because I'm whittling away the merger balance and have to face the reality that I need some cheddar to come in. I have two checks due at the end of the month but they'll probably be late, I'll have to chase them down and by that time I will have accrued some debt. The vicious circle of middle-class.

But most self-destructive is my perchant to ruin every good thing I have. Forget for a minute the possibilty that I look like a hair crazy mad woman wearing old sweats and think of me as I see myself every time I take a bath. A sexy, beautiful glistening goddess of perfectily proportioned parts. Why on earth wouldn't the rest of my life be as harmonious my ass is with my legs?

I have the answer. I'm negative. I expect and therefore always get the worst! The double jeopardy of this breathtaking. While I'm never surprised when things go wrong, I draw a sense of macabre satisfaction at having prepared for it but still get disappointed that I wasn't surprised by something else.

So, while I doubt I'd be able to change being negative, I've made a resolution to keep it to myself. Because I've realized it is contagious and poisonous.

Friday, February 19, 2010

A matter of confidence

I saw this game on Oprah once, it begins "if you really new me then you would know that..." and then the person reveals some deep dark secret about themselves. I think this has the makings of a meme! I will look into it when I have readers.

Anyway, if you knew me you'd know that what I have written here is hardly up to scratch. While I won't claim to enliven the Funeral Notices with my writing brilliance I could put a spark on those boring fuckers.

I used to write, quite extensively and well in fact. Until I lost my confidence. Not only my writing confidence but overall confidence. I've since slowly been trying to rebuild and call on those skills I once was mistress of.

It's not easy I tell you, because nothing is as unforgiveable as reading boring crap written badly. Am I not right? Of course I am.

This blog is going to be my springboard back to literaly genius. As that fugly Iyanla says, it's time I stepped into my greatness! Oh and please don't roll your eyes and think "oh another black sistah trying to relate and quoting Iyanla" I don't roll like that.

Aha aha aha! I got it, "Step into my greatness!" as a tag line? Sounds catchy and conceited, just like me on a good day!! Hmmm... I'll try it on for size.

Step in my greatness! (eh nah, it's stupid, the search continues)

Thursday, February 18, 2010

Fly in the ointment

Isn't there always an a fly in the ointment?

Of course there is, there is no fool proof plan, no perfect situation and no glitch-free route. And yet when you hit those figurative potholes of life, you are always surprised and if you're like me left staring up at sky and thinking, "God did you have to put me on my back so I could look up to you?"

It's been one of those weeks you love to see the back ends of. I have no real reason to look forward to the weekends. It's all the same to me. So I guess just this once, I'm looking forward to it. I've spent the day thinking about how I could make this weekend seem like a real break for me. I've enlisted the help of my three trusted pals, my kids and maid. We're getting together later today to compare notes. I'm all for a braai and a game-off! But then I'm boring. The challenge is that it must all be done here at home.

And you wonder what that fly in the ointment is right? If I can write about it without wanting to cry after the weekend, I'll share!

Speaking of which, I need a pay off line for this here blog.

My late Valentine

I had to go out of town for the day today and when I came home, my kids had a surprise for me!

A Valentine's present!

They'd picked some flowers from the garden and the little one wore a devilish expression that alerted me right away something fun was about to happen. My little one is the light of my life really, her eyes dance with mischief everyday and yet, her hands are never found in the cookie jar. Just last week I discovered that with some daredevil fellow first graders they had led a sneak out of school attempt, trying to save themselves the 5-minute wait to be picked up from school. I wonder if she would have made her way three blocks down to our streets.

Anyway, they gave me a beautiful photo of the both of them. It was framed in a gorgeous frame and they had made the photo black and white, just the way I like it. When I saw the photo I just cried because it was such a wonderful present. The poor darlings were confused but glad when I told them I loved it.

While I might sneer at the thought of Valentine and grumble about it be an exploitation, I love getting gifts. Who doesn't eh?

Tuesday, February 16, 2010

Girly Blog for Girly Girl

Ha! So my boyfriend, who shall henceforth be known as TJ, and will never again be referred to as a "boyfriend" sardonically asked if this would be yet another girly blog.

He, charming man that he is and oh-so-clever, did not know what girly meant almost two years ago when we met. Of course he will deny this now, what with the threat of public exposure. But he didn't. I clearly recall the conversation in which in a moment of girliness I asked him if he considered me to be "girly". He fumbled around for an answer, barely concealing the fact that he was doing him fish-outa-water impression. I gently explained what I meant and he dutifully said, "yes my dear, you're girly" He was lying through his pearly whites of course. I'm far from girly but do have my moments!

Now, two years later I'm breaking it down for you, because you will no doubt wonder why I spend so much of my time writing about inconsequential things that are of little importance to anyone else and the reason is;

I'm a Girl! And I have no aspiration of spawning another Juno.

Once in while, spurred no doubt by having no other recourse to vent my layman political opinions I will venture a post in that genre. Do not expect it to not be laced with ridiculous metaphors often of a facetious nature.

Just in case we're wondering what a "Girly Blog" would entail, here are a few topics likely to be discussed.
1. My obsessive compulsion to make all labels face front when packing the cupboard.
2. How I love TJ and sometimes, when I wanna make what I am now convinced will be a dedicated female-heavy reading list, how TJ lurves me! *know what I'm sayin' tone here*
3. My Gay Best Friend.
4. My children.
5. The benefits of comfort eating...

Okay you get my drift. Most important of are what I've listed. Do not fasten your seatbelts. It is unlikely to be bumpy ride! Stock up on good coffee and be rest assured no post will ever exceed one cigaratte break or half a cup of coffee.

That being said, I should tell you, I'm crazy bout TJ, he will be featuring quite extensively in future posts. Poor darling.

Monday, February 15, 2010

Coo-coo katchooo

My best friend's daughter is sprouting teeth. This got me thinking about post-natal depression and you will know why at the end of the post. Read on.

It also got me thinking about how black people aren't allowed to have PND. Well I ought to say the black people I know who have had it, aren't allowed to have it so those 'what an awful generalisation' people won't come after me with clubs and bad fashion sense.

I'll play it safe and not use my former neighbour who would go to the market with breastmilk stained pyjamas, leaving her son crying with the door wide open, as an example of black people who have flagrantly tossed the rules and walked down post-I-popped-a-giant-two-legged-beast-out-John's-playground madness lane. Oops, sorry former neighbour.

I am a heaven of mental illness. My therapy is so expensive I've tried to get into clinical trials just to deal with years 8 to 11. Anyway, I had post-natal depression. But luckily for me, [sic sarcastic tone here] my mother was there to take my baby and care for her while I practiced the bus-driver jive in preparation to take the psych ward by storm. PND sucks, it's ugly and has led to the death of babies the world over.

And yet, black people STILL aren't allowed to have it. Black also aren't allowed to have pedigree dogs that eat proper dog food and have leashes. Well I just recently found this one out. Still processing it while letting my dog get occasionally dirty so the mixed breeds will play with him. I 'digest' (digress to you poker-in-ass humourless sticks in the mud). PND, yup it sucks, totally. Sucks it such an infantile word to use huh? But what other word would be appropriate when talking about a disease that leads to infanticide?


What's the point of this post, my gay best friend's lover is claiming to have PND, 6 months after the birth of their daughter by a surrogate mom. HUH?

Sunday, February 14, 2010

Missing in action

I thought I would really try and make this blog less about the monotonous goings-on of my life and more about things people might find interesting. But what the hell, my need for self-affirmation forbids it! I want to bore or entertain the hell out of you with the usual diatribe of my life. Hurrah.

That being said, my Valentine's Day sucked as I could not be with my stud muffin. Honestly speaking though I doubt we'd have done anything special though.

Thursday, February 11, 2010