I made a lullaby for my children

So I'm having a rather technically challenged time today and I have to hurry off and bid one of my favourite people farewell. Oh Sarah Peep, why are you deserting me? What shall I do around here without you?

It shall be dull.


It shall be sad.

It shan't be as bright as it used to be.

Back to my main point. I can't upload the song I made for my future daughters and sons.
I put the laptop mic on and it flowed straight from the heart. They will love it.

Okay. Enough Now.

Crossing my fingers - Walking The Daisies!

So I try my utmost to be as green as possible - by green I don't mean envious or jealous - I mean the 
envitonmentally friendly kind of groen.

And this year, apart from keeping moutains of wine bottles consumed by the entire house for recycling & re-use (My ex-housemates are definite guzzlers I might add). In addition I have put my Ruby's (the lovely little Opel Monza which is the cause of the biggest mishaps turned adventures in my life, such as this one) engine to rest and used my legs and the train to get around!

I'm pretty proud of myself you know. I could have been zooooooOoooming around the city as I used to. contributing to the ever rising levels of Carbon Mono and Di oxide in the atmosphere.

And now, potentially the biggest & funnest attempt at contributing to greening myself further is this:

WALKING THE DAISIES!

I have applied and am waiting; like a schoolboy waiting to be called into the principals office; for the results!

I've bitten every nail that has grown over my finger tips off. I've even begun gnawing at the strips of skin surrounding the nail.

In my application I've even offered to give the other walkers one of my killer Foot massages. Yup! I know.

Anyway - Crossing fingers!

Didi xx

Dragonfly feat. Zaki Ibrahim by Richard the Third (Biscope)

I need to express my utter adoration for this song! It's a masterpiece.


As if I didn't already have major respect for Richard & Zaki. yOu make me want to sing! aND Make sick BEATS AlL DAY!


ENJOY  It- Hopefully as much as I do. Have a listen below

Dragonfly feat. Zaki Ibrahim by Richard the Third (Biscope)

When you know you’re not spending enough time with yourself

This is a tiny snippet, it’s more one of those thoughts that come skipping into the mind and then sit in my mental park’s bench. Waiting for me to poke and prod at it until some sort of light bulb goes on.

I’ve just come home from having dinner with Julia (only one of my utmost favourite people in the world). Julia’s my former housemate, but honestly after surviving living with each other we are practically sisters. She is family. My moving out has not stopped us from spending time together. It’s a special bond that will take unbelievably persistent and harsh prying to unstick.

Anyhow I got home to my new housemate having a ciggie outside the house. I quickly dumped my pizza lunch box and bag down in my already messy room and headed straight back out to go talk to her.

We proceeded to have a long talk about love, the lack thereof, the male brain, Libran males, the emotional retardation men seem to be born with, astrological signs, my birth chart, repairing broken glass, *FRANKenstein, the moon, the breathtaking view of Cape Town from her room window and must see movies.

By the time I headed to my room it was 1am.

All I wanted to do then was jump into bed and visit Lala in her enchanting Land.

But I hadn’t even spent time with me.

For a second I stood still and asked myself. If I was my own friend. Would I be happy with the amount of time I was spending with myself?

The answer was a loud and angry no.

Whenever you aren’t sure. Turn yourself into a friend with a name (preferably one that doesn’t exist in your current pool of friends) and ask yourself if you would be happy with the treatment you have been giving your newly named friend.

You can apply the exact same method to other questions. Heck go wild on the method! Is your friend getting enough rest? What advice would you give her if you were you and she was her?

How perfectly normal women turn into "That Psycho *&%#@"

Last night was the most twisted night I have had in forever (that might be a lie, but right this moment if feels that way). I’m a firm believer that we all experience things to learn a lesson of some sort. Both fantastic and downright terrible things; about ourselves, others and the world we are involuntarily a part of.

So *Frank has made a re-appearance in my life. After a series of roller coaster moments (with fabulous peaks, beautiful plutonic waves  & really distasteful lows) I decided to cut him out of my life a few months ago, mainly because I was just pouring too much into a seemingly hole-riddled jug. I got to a point where I didn’t have enough fingers to stop the liquid from seeping out. Too much slaving. Even for the most patient, giving soul.

I sent him an email stating why I was snipping him out. An email you ask? Well, that’s about all he deserved to be honest. And then he had the cheek to email me back with bullet points and red lettering under each paragraph I had written. The nerve.

A few weeks ago I dreamt that I had seen him and he came up to me to apologise about the email he sent back (it was pretty darn cold and rude that). The strangest thing is that I had honestly not been thinking about him. I no longer had his number, blocked him on gmail, Facebook and my mind. I was at that point where; whenever I heard a song that he gave to me I enjoyed the song for what it was and it didn’t remind me of him. What a lovely place to be.

After the dream I felt like I had taken 5 giant leaps backwards, I missed him again, worried about his wellbeing and all the other frills that come with such leaps.

Lo & behold, a couple days later he walks into the same bar/lounge/club me and my 2 besties are at. I literally gasped and grabbed both of them (they were sitting either side of me, I think I actually had one of each of their breasts in my hand, but we didn’t take note) I quickly straightened myself up before he caught a glimpse of me. He stopped in his tracks momentarily and then restarted smoothly, came over to say hello, handshake and then he was off to the bar. I couldn’t believe I had seen him.

How coincidental. I didn’t know how I felt about him being there. Sara P & I were already feeling down about her leaving in a weeks time. Caitie was trying to cheer us up but to no avail. Towards the end of my time at the bar one of his friends came looking for me. He found me and told me it was *Frank’s best friend’s farewell (who I have to mention is an absolute sweetheart). What was I to do? He led me to where he was and I approached him tentatively (he is Frank’s friend and that – in my mind - was not my territory at all). He swooped me up and gave me the biggest hug. Was extremely happy to see me. I suspect the liquor he had been offered from all directions had something to do with this :)

The very corner of my eye caught a glimpse of *Frank; he was staring, I couldn’t quite make out what his expression was screaming. After a bit of a dance and chitter chatter with his best bud I went off to continue with my life. I was waiting for a friend and *Frank walked up to me and started up a conversation. I was brief. Cold. “Yes”, “No” type answers. I had a shell. I knew it was there, but never so visible to me – it’s owner. It was shielding my healthy bouncing heart.

He then plunged into what seemed like the most sincere apology I have heard (seen) in a long long time. I stood there, frozen. At a loss for words, teetering on the edge of a teardrop. I got my footing and stepped away from the edge. I listened and listened.

I thought and thought. That hard shell still keeping me from feeling entirely.

He told me that I didn’t deserve the way he had treated me, nor the email he sent. He told me he writes about me in his journal and I’m “an absolute champ” in it, that he often thinks that when he’s an old man someday he’ll look back on the time in Cape Town and think about what a big loss it was that we were not together. He told me that he had shared some of his most innermost thoughts, feeling & experiences with me, he told me he loved my energy, he told me he loved spending time with me, he told me he liked me, a lot. He told me that if we were in a different time and space (and he didn’t finish that sentence, we both knew). He told me I that I’m a beautiful, intelligent woman. He then apologised again for his dick behaviour. (Please understand, I have looked through the dictionary and thesaurus and tried to replace that word with a more civilised word, and for the love of God, I struggled and failed to find one. Dick it is.)

He gave me a side hug. Which I gave him a suggestive look for. His response “What, I’m trying to hold back” and then went in for a proper, real hug.

The intensity.

He asked me to come home with him. This I laughed at. What a joker. I ignored his silly request. He grabbed my hand and asked me to please come home with him. The shell was beginning to dissolve. Unfortunately.

I made it crystal clear that if we do go home together there would be no sexual play whatsoever. That if we did end up under the same roof, it would be to talk and catch up. I told him to please pick another girl if what he wanted was sex. He looked me dead in the eye and said “ If I were to go home with anyone in this entire place, it would have to be you, even if its just to talk”. I think the shell stopped working at this point.

We went to his place. My room was an absolute mess. Still is.

When we got there we grabbed a blanket and some cushions and went to the rooftop of his building. He lives right by the sea. We sat there listening to the ocean and taking in the fresh seabreeze. He said I wish we could just start over. Start over?

We went to bed after he warmed my feet between his legs, tickling me and exchanging back massages. He held me as though he was about to lose me. We had stuck to my rule and yet the passion was nearly tangible.

Almost clutching onto the moment and not me. Only just.

Morning came and the grip was still as tight.

We both had to continue with our separate lives. I left and decided not to take down his number. I could see he hated this. But my shell was now, yet again, intact.

A peck on the lips and I was out.

I wrote something a few days ago to describe how I felt when I left that apartment. The emotion was so distinct. I will never forget it. Here is my description:

The minute I stepped out of the apartment building and felt the sting of the sunshine on the top of my eyeballs. I began to split into a million tiny pieces with merely the clothes on my back and beret atop my head holding me together. Fragility I could never comprehend. He had my heart. Three storeys above where I stood. He busily walked around the apartment straightening it up. Oblivious to the part of me he held in a handkerchief stuffed in the pocket of the trousers he wore.

I had to continue walking. I had to.

We exchanged some emails which I initiated. And then, again, cold, cut-off *Frank stood before me. That hole-riddled jug.

I decided a few days later not to be so ruled by my ego. There was a nagging feeling telling me I’d regret it if I didn’t try harder. You know, extend the arm a little.

So I wrote him to invite him to an event happening last night. He couldn’t make it because he had prior commitments. The responses got shorter and colder.

Somehow I got a hold of his number. I decided to text him after talking to a girlfriend of mine about it. She left the option to me. Texted him, no response, tried calling him, no response.

A friend from Italy who is leaving today gave me a call and asked me to come to Waiting Room to join him on his last night. So I went.

We got a drink and then went upstairs to join the rest of his friends.

There he was. Standing there.

I said a brief hello and continued to speak to the person I had come there for.

We pretty much ignored each other. And then towards the end if the evening. I walked up to him and asked him why he was being so cold in the emails.

After lots of poking and prodding to get him to speak to me. He finally said that he doesn’t feel anything for, me and that he never did, he said that he remembered nothing from the night we last saw each other, he told me all he really wanted to do was have sex with me. He said he meant some of the things in the email he sent.

He tore the entire apology apart. He shredded it.

As you can imagine I had a meltdown, it appears that shell was no longer there to protect me. It had gone elsewhere to guard some other heart.

I wanted to stop the flood gates but it was too late. Far too late. The waterfalls began, uncontrollable emotion. He didn’t flinch. He then asked if I could get out of his way so he could leave.

I gave him way, but my heart wasn’t satisfied. We wanted something more. A warmer response I suppose.

I found myself semi-running down the road to squeeze in one more sentence.

One more question. One more answer ticked off the list.

I caught up and just as I got to him, Caitie and some friends approached, we started saying something to each other. I needed to get some things from her bag and vice-versa. Just as Caitie and the crew left. He ran.

No; sprinted up the road. And around some or other corner.  Cape Town streets turned into a maze. Him the mouse.

This is the part I’m least proud of. I took my heels off and tried finding him. Can you imagine the madness of that reality?

The sheer desperation in that decision. It gives me chills.

I found myself doing that. I scared myself. I wanted to laugh but I couldn’t.

I found Caitie in her car and jumped in. I don’t know why I did that. Like being in that car was going to restrain me. A straightjacket of sorts.

At the next junction. I asked her to stop and got out. I guess this must have been the emotional equivalent of escaping from the mental institution? I don’t know.

I somehow thought I was going to find him. Honestly.

My brain stepped in and lead me straight to where I had left my friends before I headed to Waiting Room.

I got there, shaken, shocked and surprisingly silent.

I didn’t want to talk. All I wanted to do was make sense of it all in my mind.

What had just happened?

People get labeled all kinds of things all the time. They get these labels because of all kinds of reasons. But before we do that the people who contributed to get them there (each and every one of us) should think twice about it.

To *Frank I’m that Psycho Bitch that chased him down the road in Cape Town, heels in hand. But there are some events that lead to that moment in time. It is not an unrelated incident. I was pushed to that point. I didn’t chase an absolute stranger down the road.

I eventually spoke to my friends about what he had said to me. I am so sad that I invested so much time and energy into *Frank.

I’m still quite fragile about it all. I had a couple good cries last night and today.

I’m picking up the pieces. Slowly but eventually I will be all good again and ready to give of myself as I have.

>> And to my Love Guru, I know you are going to catch wind of this situation and you did tell me so. I should have listened but I didn’t. I got burnt and will learn not to trust *Frank. But I’m not sure this has taught me a lesson about men in general.

This one's for *St Leon

I’ve just come back from having lunch with Leon. What a treat. Both the company, and the food.

He is such a gem of a person. He is one of those people that re-inforce my belief that the length of time you’ve known someone is not necessarily equivalent to how well you know them and how comfortable you feel around them. I met Leon randomly earlier this year and still happy I gate crashed that gathering of old friends.

He’s the inspiration for me finally clearing the cobwebs that have built up on here. He was “stuck” in Ghana during the world cup and would visit my blog to find snippets of the action of things in Cape Town. They keep him sane I guess.

My biggest apologies for the hectic cob webs. I’ve got a serious Worldcup hangover that has lasted longer than I ever dreamed.

Okay I’m about to totally gush about my awesome friend now. If you’re looking for a knight in shining armour – you may want to read further :)

He’s changed my idea about engineers, they are not boring people and their job certainly isn’t. Well his atleast. He’s unwittingly given me much insight into what he actually does and how intricate his job is. I love it when people who know what they are talking about, talk about it in depth. I’m a sponge I said.

Because he travels often, I don’t get to see him much. But when I do, we go straight back to where we left the bookmark when we last saw each other. It’s a beautiful thing. He tells me about his amazing travel adventures (like his weeklong trip along the Nile)  and his sailing trip to Turkey. Honestly I’m a proper shade of green. The envy.

On his birthday a couple days ago he rounded up his friends and we invaded Dizzy’s in Camps Bay for Karaoke night. Now anyone who has had a mad night out with me would know that I am Karaoke queen. I once fought with a 45 year old woman for the mic. I say she was jealous. I take it seriously you know.

Leon & I took on the crowd wielding our microphones and a killer track. Wonderwall by Oasis. That song evokes so many memories and emotions. If there were a way, I would take it and stuff it into my memory box filled with treasures I’ve discovered or stumbled upon along my path of life. Anything from sea shells to letters I wrote to my friend during math class in grade 9. Pretty neat I’d say.

We got the crowd to sing along. It was a miniature concert I tell you. Legendary if I say so myself.

He’s going to have a “farm in Africa” one day where he is going to retire and create great memories, he’s going to buy it with one of my bra’s I’m going to aurograph it and he’s going to sell in on E-bay for some ridiculous amount. Killer plan.

I’m going to have an Island one day its going to be called St Leon, there are going to be speakers mounted into the trees and as the day turns to night and the rhythm of the day changes so the music will at the same pace. Until we’re jamming to some crazy beats under the stars and moon. There’ll be bonfires everywhere. You can choose whichever one you want to dance around.

What I love most about Leon is his sincerity and ability to let me be myself around him. That’s my definition of a great friend. A person who lets it be easy for me to be me and who finds it easy to be themselves around me.

Keep your eyes on here, I’ll be writing again more often, thanks for giving me that kick my butt needed Leon!

The above image is a bit of an inside joke :)

Destiny's Sparkly Plan

So I've almost come to the conclusion that I have not been shortlisted for the Channel O Presenter Job. 

It's the 31st & that call hasn't come.

But you know what, I'm ok. Just Okay with it.

I think that I am destined for beautiful great things which will bring me endless inner happiness and financial success. I believe it and know its true.

Not getting the Channel O Access Presenter Job is simply saying (a few things really):

"Didi there are things more suited to you out there"

"The time is not right" (Although it's particularly hard to swallow this - I could almost taste that life...)

"You now know people believe in your dream,passion & soul" (Here is the proof)

Most of all, I now KNOW that I can tackle anything. I made a video in the rain, got a movement going where people took time out to give to me, I started a fun campaign which really kept me sane and happy, I have gotten soo many ideas of what I can do in the future (near future) to help get my dreams off the ground, I somehow managed to get my hair done without a cent and just the power of verbal persuasion (and the love of my sister), utter strangers jumped in to help me make it happen. These things are all very priceless. There's simply no value I could put to it all. Ever.

The world is my oyster and despite not getting that call back...

I Will Survive. I will continue to grow and be happy.

The experience has been great - and it goes into that basket of things I'll look back on and smile...

Hello Channel O Access!

My previously mentioned exciting campaign, that I've working on has been launched on this spot right here. It's Fresh & Fun.

So if you don't already know I entered the O-Access Presenter Search job application (I reckon it's not really a competition, because it isn't about luck hey?)

All I want to do with my life is talk to people. In front of a Camera.

I was born to do it.

Leave a comment if you agree!

(In case you missed it before, Click here to check out my campaign!)

Uhm...

Cape Town - Love of My life

In this borrowed slide-show from a brilliant photographer friend to whom I offload a whole lot of pent up Tswana talk. You will see a huge reason why I adore Cape Town and why it (no matter I end up moving to) will forever reside in this heart. (Look out for Caitlin Hill, Nonhlanhla Mditshwa & Lerato Mmutle - Some of my favourite people)

Bursting at the seams

This week was a whirlwind of so many experiences. So many tiny micro little things that I want to share, complain and speak about.

Each one of them deserve a posting off their own. But I don't have that kind of time unfortunately for me (and you).

So I will just spill it all right here: Bit by bit, as it flows into this brain and is transferred to the fingers on this keyboard.

I Love Girls, that I know and know love me and allow me to be myself. Other than that sparkly handful; I can't stand girls-only affairs. They are strangely uncomfortable. I feel like I am under a gigantic microscope and all I want to do is just shrink into a tiny grain of salt in the carpet and then just grow big again towards the end (or when the champagne appears).

I Make People Laugh, out loud, without even trying. And its a gift, I should learn to embrace owning the ability to make people happy so effortlessly - even if just for a few moments. I jolt something in them that makes them smile.

Talking Makes Everything Okay, except for pimples, they just linger and annoy you and make you feel un-pretty for days until you find a facial wash (like the one I found) that sweeps them all away and make you feel preeety :)

Alcohol In some Hands Can Be Funny, but most times dangerous and can lead you to believe that you don't actually have to work. For anything. Ever. This thought was planted by a conversation around a breed of people that exists in Observatory (Cape Town).

Friends Are Better Than Lovers, especially if they read books to you and wrestle you and let you win just once and share music with you and treat you real good without feeling any pressure to be sweet. Just being(even if it means letting some uhm..air out while you sleep - urrrgh!!). Still Priceless.

We Are ALL Obliged To Give, in our own way, whether its cash, online donations, R2 to the guy at the traffic light begging with the "black bag for garbage" trick, to the homeless child that ALWAYS begs you for something, giving of our time, our services, our talents. Give. Just give in the beginning. And then love to give and then give with love. GIVE it really does change things for someone. Think about if someone - a stranger- just gave you a bunch of flowers. Feel that joy - now pass it on.

Sadness Is Contagious, only if you let it, but sometimes it's so intense you can't deny it entry. We caught a glimpse of each others feelings in that short publicly unnoticed glance we shared on a hot Saturday afternoon. I was glowing with happiness and he; stewing in unhappiness. In that short little glance we took a little bit of it away from each other - a swap of sorts. (If this has happened to you before you will know what I mean).

Sometimes We Are Clueless as to who we are really dealing with. We think they are a certain way because you met at a certain place that suggests a certain something. Look deeper. I was in a taxi home and this car pulled up violently beside us and the guys starts throwing some crude energy in our direction us. He follows the taxi and comes real close to ramming his car into us (maybe it was his intention) but anyway it was quite scary, I thought he was going to pull out a gun. Upon closer inspection I realise I "know" this guy. I met him at my place of work he was an assistant to the chef at the restaurant in the restaurant here and he was always so polite and always asked me out on dates and never had a car. And all of a sudden in one little incident I realise there is more to him.

I Have Heaps Of Love & energy to dish out, but I need to channel it in the right directions, pour it into the right souls and keep some for myself. 

Honesty Is Important, because you don't want people giving you what you don't want because they think its what you want. Be honest - for selfish reasons. In other words for yourself.

Shiba, Arlene, Caitlin should have 4m marble statues of themselves erected in the most gorgeous places. They are just such gems. I love you.

My sister is a queen. She really needs to get a gold thrown and crown already. Any suggestions where I can get any?

I am such a lucky little being, living where I live, experiencing what I do, having the people I have in my life. I am so so lucky.

Sometimes its an overload of happiness but most times its just great.

Thanks for everything.

I May Be Falling For Jo'burg

Yet another business trip to Joburg in the bag! The fourth in 4 months. I’m about 36 000 ft in the air and gathering all my thoughts, feelings and revelations.

This time, unlike the other times, I found myself appreciating what Joburg had to offer. I actually saw it in a new light. I was starting to warm up to it.

Like it almost. (I know)

Well, in my newfound appreciations defense; there were many Cape Town faces that added to the journey. This leads me to believe that the people are the place. You can’t separate the 2. Okay maybe you can. But the people most certainly give it more flavour.

I went to the (very wet) “Back To The City” music festival in Newtown, where quite a few familiar faces (and voices) graced the stage. My legendary Love Guru was amongst the familiar faces.

Given the dismal situation with the rain and all; I was fortunate enough (1 friend of a friends cigarette later) to get a spot backstage. (Thanks to *Terry for the hook up!) Happily dry, sharing listening space with the performers and just soaking up the energy.

           

The next day I went to Bassline in Newtown to listen to some beats from Dj Khenzero and music from 5^th Floor, Zaki Ibrahim, Mxo as well as ******. The refreshing & slightly loony Ayanda Njanya hosted the show.

Zaki delivered a flawless, hair raisingly awe-inspiring performance. She is a world-class performer and I want to introduce all my friends to her glorious voice and groove.  Even my bladder played along during her performance. Yes, That amazing.

There was something alluring about that city this time around. I can’t quite place my finger on it. Maybe it’s the bustle, the hustle, the towering buildings that make me feel insignificant, the pace, the newly uncovered art scene. But most of all; I suspect my willingness to open up and appreciate these offerings. To let the city feed my soul with what it had to offer. However different it is to what my current city of choice dishes out. (To an overly satisfied recipient)

Attitude is everything. Isn’t it?

I was contemplating naming this post “My slight attachment to Jozi” But that would be pushing it. Quite a bit at that. Baby Steps J. Baby Steps.

The Lengths Women Go To, To Get A Man

“I would rather recreate myself than be rejected by a man “

The above quote came from a woman who wrote in to a talk show. The topic was “The lengths women go to, to get a man”.

The said talk show aired quite some time ago. The words struck something within me. I was shocked at the statement. So I wrote it down.  But at the time, wasn’t sure what more to say or think of it.

But now I lie in bed after having a private movie marathon and realising that we all sacrifice a part of ourselves to suit someone we think we want or someone we do indeed want.

We tweak, chop & change and morph to fit into some said or perceived way of being that will enable us to obtain that which we are after; whether it be a job, an opportunity, a grand prize on a reality TV show, a friendship. Or even (extreme as it may seem) A man.

The pursuit of love.

It can do some crazy things to a person. I tell you. Full on change you.

Slowly, yet, dramatically.

One lady called in, sharing her personal experience; that she had gone as far as making some physical changes to please the man she was with. She had several plastic surgeries to get closer to becoming the woman of his dreams – whatever that meant.

She nipped and tucked and endured months of, hospital food and pain during her hospitalisation at different times in her life only to inch closer to this man’s idea of what he deemed beautiful.

Yes, she most definitely had self esteem issues. But maybe she didn’t approach the relationship that way. Maybe, like you and I, she was simply willing to compromise.

Compromise.

Perhaps she merely feared rejection. Don’t we all? The only difference between us all is the extent we would go to in order to avoid it.

I will never know what she was going through - the minute little pieces of her that chipped away, the moments that edged her to  her arrival at that point.

What I do know is that we all sacrifice a part of ourselves in the pursuit of what we want. It’s a scary fact of life.

I’ve seen many-a-girl carry out mildly outrageous antics to try fit into their particular beau of choice’s mould of “The perfect girl”

Dumbing themselves down to land the guy, taking up the ugly damaging habit of smoking or dressing differently & going to specific clubs to land that guy, some have pulled out the dustiest files of a soccer/rugby/hockey/American football teams and clued themselves up for their next (or potential?) encounter.

And are they to blame for changing to suit that specimen? Isn’t it the most basic law of life – survival of the fittest? The fittest in the dating Olympics could be the “best dressed”, “coolest”,  “sweetest”, “easiest to get along with”, most clued up on “The Canucks”. Basically the one most likely to change to suit what the man wants. One that isn’t willing to challenge his intellect, one he can watch football with, maybe even one he can experiment drugs with and go wild at trance parties with. (Different strokes for different folks right?)

Who am I to judge?

I myself have done some fairly extreme things to impress a guy. I have gone as far as reading up (for hours) about the topics that interest him so that I can be well versed in his interests.

I’ve tried to seem helpless so that he can feel needed. But in the end none of the above worked, Not because I didn’t pull if off well enough (sad to admit). But, because it just wasn’t me and I grew tired of pretending. I certainly am not helpless. If anything, I enjoy being needed. I just couldn’t keep some things up. It’s too taxing.

It’s complex this game we play.

The easiest way to make it as least strenuous as possible is to be yourself and to be open enough to let him see what that is (hoping that he reciprocates) and if what is on offer doesn’t make your heart jolt move on swiftly. You’re bound to find someone that does.

I sang for someone in 43 secs flat - Listen!

Ha ha, a friend of mine is on a Dj/Music world tour (Cause he's tight like that) and he is feeling rather homesick. So I decided that since I couldn't send him good old Biltong I would cheer him up with my voice! Have a listen by clicking here.

One take is all it took!

Technology and I are becoming good friends :)

Common Decency - It's Free

On a slightly more disgruntled note.

I have been feeling irritated by this annoying trait that keeps gravitating towards me. This time it has possessed  the most surprising of hosts.

The bug of the lack of decency.

I’ve been working (real hard) at letting go of expectations. Because its liberating, not only for me, but for you too. It frees my mind and alleviates the cropping up of the emotion of disappointment. It frees you, it gives your soul true freedom. My take anyway.

But lately I’ve realised that letting go of expectations comes with a high price tag dangling from its ankle.

It means that I have to take any old morsels of manners and love that come my way. It’s hard when you KNOW people have more to give than the 3^rd grade scraps I have to lap up.

Here are a few guidelines to avoid giving my skin this rash:

If I text you, call you, email you and you cant respond. Do so when you eventually get a chance to even if it means sending me a PLS CALL ME – honestly its not THAT embarrassing and I won’t judge you for it.

If PLS CALL ME’s are too hard to send – smoke signals shall suffice.

If you can’t make it to do something, tell me. Don’t let me connect the dots.

Make it up to me if you do mess up. Flowers, cash & good experiences gladly accepted.

Say “Please”, “Thank you” and “Sorry” where necessary. I shall kindly spell I out below

"Please" – if you would like something use it before you request or after (Just slot it in there somewhere)

"Thank you" – once your request has been met it should be used, or if a nice gesture is shown it is used to show gratitude

"Sorry" – if you have done something wrong and would like forgiveness, this word kind of helps.

If you have to print this guide to help you remember. Do so. Here it is - It's free.

The best things in life are free

The last few days have been unbelievable. My evenings have been comprised of great conversations and unexpected nights out. I don’t have a dime to my name but somehow (thanks to my loving friends) have managed to have a fantastic week.


Art Exhibitions, drinks in new bars, discovering Tagores in Observatory, wine at Cine Ganesh, first time visits to Spring Boks & Tin roof in Claremont (Yes, I see the shock on your face 3 years in Cape Town and you haven’t ever set foot there until now?!), re-connecting with friends I have been neglecting and missing so dearly. An overall winner of a week.


Friday was a lucky packet of music, discovering a “Smokie” in Woodstock, live bands at house parties, great punch (that kicked one helluva punch) & making friends with cops that were disturbing the fun.



Saturday brought an early morning – painful given my state the night before (a few hours to be exact). But composure was necessary. Great meeting that promises the beginning of something amazing. Catching up with a well-missed friend over tea and re-acquainting myself with my life journal.


Sunday was my gift to my friends I combined 2 of my favourite loves (Cooking & touching people) a “So Long Summer” gathering; where I prepared some Mexican cuisine with the great help of some absolutely amazing, loving people and gave foot & back massages.


Topped the night off with a visit to watch a jazz band play at Tagores in Obs and a giggling fit of a girly chat while snuggled in bed before drifting off to sleep.


A fantastic week. Thank you Cape Town.

"I would rather recreate myself than be rejected by a man"

COMING SOON:

Post on the lengths women would to, to get a man.

Currently conducting research.

A lovely parcel for you ...

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Madness creeps up on SA (Part 2 of...well lets wait & see)

Okay, this one is not so much funny as it is embarrasing and outrageous (as is the first on to be honest) it is simply jaw-droppingly shocking.

Julius, unlike Mr. Visagie has a lot more power in that a lot more people relate to him, listen to him and actually like him (as bizarre as it is). He holds a rather powerful seat in SA (Head of the ANC Youth League).

ANC being the (fairly unchallenged) ruling party in South Africa.

If this idiot doesn't learn diplomacy and the difference between when to shut the hell up and when to speak up we will end up in some boiling water. (I ask myself again - how did he end up there?)

Madness creeps up on SA (Part 1 of...well lets wait & see)

Since the murder of Eugene Terreblanche, havoc of a scary (sometimes really hilarious) nature has erupted. The content isn't funny(as such) its the way people seem to express themselves when they are in the public arena and overwhelmed with anger or frustration that makes me laugh.

Before I dig myself into a pit of quicksand watch this and you'll probably understand.

When jokes go too far

Recently a friend of mine on facebook invited me to join an event called "International Round Up The Women & Herd Them To The Kitchen Day". When I saw the invite I was shocked but decided to find out what it was all about before getting worked up.

I went on the event page and was at a loss for words to say the least. The humour was tasteless and the images were the final straw on this camel's back.

If you are reading this and think that the 3 images (out of about 50) I have placed below are offensive and go much much further than any "joke" should. Please visit the site by following this link and reporting the event and the images that you find offensive.

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There is a line between funny and just plain offensive. And this event and its members have definitely crossed it. I have a fairly tough skin and am not overly sensitive, but even I think that this group and the images advocate violence towards women. Its sickening & worrying.

"Power Corrupts, absolute power corrupts absolutely" a true tale of harrasment in SA

I'd like to begin this post by describing the person who this below occurrence happened to. *Tom is one of the most warm-spirited, generous and gentle people I know. Music is his great love and passion. He is a really great person who is both tolerant and untampering in who other people are and chose to be.

I am deeply upset that things like this happen to people, but even more upset that *Tom had to endure such a soul-oppressing situation.

What you read below is his own account of what happened to him and how he felt.

All your comments, thoughts and ramblings are welcome.

"So yeah, here's the whole story; I was driving behind this guy in a Ford Focus WZW073GP yesterday, coming past the Boskruin Shopping centre and it had just become a double lane. As this guy was driving very slowly, I tried to pass him on the right when he suddenly swerved into the right hand lane without indicating. I then swerved left and went past him. I looked at him and opened and closed my hand to tell him that he should indicate next time and he instantly turned on his blue light and I could hear him screaming at me to pull over. As I had done nothing wrong, I presumed that it was one of those random "stop & search procedures, so I pulled over. He then got out and ran up to my window and threatened to "F$#@ me up", I was very apologetic as he had a gun around his waist as well as a whole lot of other stuff. He was very abusive and calling me all sorts of derogatory words/names. When I told him he couldn't speak to me that way, He then got even more angry and shouted at me to get out my car because he was going to " teach me a lesson and F$#@ me up!" As he had not produced a badge, I did what Carte Blanche said and refused to get out the car and said that we could drive to the nearest police station and he could arrest me and do whatever else there, to which he replied, "You drive anywhere and I'll F$#@ing fill your car with led!" I was totally freaked out by this and just kept apologizing until eventually he let me go. I was going to go to the cops about this but in fear for my life or being hunted down and totally harassed by this guy, I won't... Human Rights??? I think not!... What kind of world do we live in when the police hold all the cards and there's absolutely nothing you can do in your own defence? It’s sickening."

There were lots of reponses to this post; that was fairly encouraging - people voicing their frustrations and anger towards this kind of behviour and form of abuse.

My response to it:

"Wow *Tom I’m so sorry you had to endure this kind of harassment and blatant denial of your rights.

One of the most upsetting things about reading this is understanding how totally powerless you felt. The problem is that policemen/women (and most people of authority) can do pretty much anything to you and it most times goes unnoticed or very well covered up.

The biggest issue here is this very old phrase “Power corrupts, absolute power corrupts absolutely” you can see it everywhere. Look at our political situation – I won’t go into that for now – you know how worked up I get.... See More

But bottom line is people don’t go into jobs because they genuinely love what the job entails. People get jobs because they need to eat and feed a family. Its simply “a job” not a craft that they use to better someone else's life nor for the betterment of something (perhaps a system of doing things).

Once again I’m sorry you had to go through this.

Would you mind if I posted this on my blog? I think situations like yours are experienced by most and then get swept under the carpet because “nothing happened in the end”.

I'm sorry but verbal assault IS something.

Massive Love to you *Tom. x"