Here, there and everywhere

Yes, yes, your eyes don't deceive you... I have returned. It's been a helter skelter of a month (or maybe I've just been unmotivated and lazy- who knows). There's always some excuse not to nurture and de-weed one's piece of cyber-land. I want to be witty and interesting by giving you a crazy reason for my absence, but alas, none.

I have however, been sitting on my fat butter bum and mending the holes in my socks.

Blerghhh

My little lightbulb is burning out. I tried to keep it going by inserting a coin, but alas- nothing! I woke up feeling like a million rupees, but here I sit with a zapped out lightbulb. I need sleep! I want sleep!!! GIVE ME sleep!

The last two nights weren’t all nighters, but I think it’s finally caught up with me. I’ve tried to pull a sneaky, but chasing the Blerghhh is just too much hard work, and besides who has the perseverance to keep a Blerghhh down without a harness?

Stupid Cupid

Another year of big red hearts being shoved at you. You try to accept graciously, but never sincerely (again I probably speak for myself). Yesterday some blithering idiot put a PC on top of my D&G glasses. They look like Uri Geller got hold of them, bar one lone lens amiss (if there are any typos I blame it on not being able to see properly). Then there was that time that I made a wise crack about not wanting to weigh myself. The reason for that is plain as day. We as humans always equate our achievements, dreams, wholeness etc; to the external. So why weigh the external shell when we should be weighing our more important- internal. I am proud to say that I haven't stepped on the scale for over 8 months. A HUGE achievement for a woman. I hadn't done the gardening for over 3 weeks. Yes it looked like a tangled jungle, with wispy, emerald-green carpet strands. Lucky for me my mom decided to take the mower to it. Unfortunately for her she didn't know the mower had stubborn tendencies- and tried to maneuver it through the ultra-long blades. Lets just say she cut the electrical chord and the grass is all patchy.

What is the relevance you ask? Well there is none. The point is that its a bumbling piece of wasted breath and calendar space.

If you want more relevance check out last years post:
Fart that Heart...

Alter Ego

I need to name my alter ego. I was thinking of something with an ordinary tang to it. Well not exactly ordinary- maybe more serious. Veronica? Susan? Ummmm Cathy....

The reason for this very real debacle is because I have a very SERIOUS side- no jokes. Sometimes I find myself pondering maturely about certain things;it doesn't really frighten me (as it might you), but I've come to the realization that it's part of me. Silly-serious.

Sylvia. That's it. I now dub my alter-ego Sylvia.

Here's what she has to say from last night:

Ashes


Little flickers sparkle a deep shade of red,
Breathing and exhaling a silent permeation.
Heat dripping off the sifted build-up,
Exposed layers of warmth.
Fuelled by blackened bits of insidiousness,
A silver cloud rised and dissipates.

Oops

Number of times been stranded without petrol: 2

Yes, I've officially run out of petrol a whole two times. It's staggering! It's a female stereotype that I admit to being a victim of.

The first time was because I wanted to find out how far my car could go without filling it up. It was a small Renault Clio 1.4. however, it used to take ALOT of petrol, some R230 worth (South Africans will understand why all the bitching and moaning about the fuel price). It never really got to me because I could do between 600-700 kilometers on a full tank.

So one night I decided to break the kilometer barrier. The shining orange light came on the night before whilst driving to some club. (I used to chance it only from the previous night coming home from work).

I was really anxious when I turned on the ignition to drive home. A shot of adrenaline shot through my body. I was determined to add a few more km's to the chart. I almost made it home too!!

This Saturday was stuckage number two. (Before I continue, I’d like to make it clear, that it wasn’t my fault. It was my sister’s car. I only drove there. How am I supposed to know that it NEEDED petrol?) We had just finished mashing it up at some club in Jozi town, when we made our way to the car.We jumped in- me in the passenger seat- and my sister turned the ignition. Nothing.... Nada...

Luckily the dude that organized the party, pointed us out to some other dude that could be of assistance. This dude looked way dodge, my first instinct was to brave the walk to the petrol station, muggings and all. My sister telepathically convinced me otherwise- two little people and a group of armed men- I wasn’t really in the mood.

I hope number 3 never comes!

Bbbbb...oring

Today I'm going to pretend to be boring.
Maybe people will believe me.

Sometimes I do feel like I'm boring though. (Maybe I am, or could I just be plain old BORED?) Let's look at the word BORED. It refers to having no mental (or for some-physical) stimulation. I hope I haven't become numb to these mind prickling forces. That would be tragic indeed. Imagine a life of complete and perpetual boredom.

In this book I'm reading, the crazed psycho-serial-killer, Simon, refers to boredom as a rat. It gnaws at you, preying at you from the darkest corners of your mind. This diseased infested being contaminates; until you succumb... And when you think it can't get anymore, it drags you- kicking and screaming- to a place you'd rather not be.

Blah, blah, blah... I know I AM bored and boring today (I'm not too sure which is worse), no pretending here.



Forget that... this picture actually makes me feel, much less....ummm...

Splatter slooshes

Q: What happens when you have too much time on your hands?

A: Crazy, obscure, mental pictures brew inside your head, fighting to make their way out.

When these visual manifestations do break free (after years of being rolled up and left in the corner), the result can be catastrophic.

I remember picking up the brush, and mixing, mixing until the bottom of the palette had a hole in it. Wooshy wrist movements followed. Hours passed, my clothes became more and more soaked with different hues of the rainbow.













P.S. Remember to clean the brushes after use.