one of those…

It’s 5am Tuesday morning, well 5.40 to be exact, 5 was the time I should have been up. I have no excuse, no smart reason why I woke up 40mins later, just that I’m a lazy girl who clearly has her priorities all wrong if I even have the gut to write for her blog rather than read for her marketing paper in a couple of hours. I guess I just know when I’m screwed, in those situations I do what everyone does best, run from reality. Some would say if I’m going to waste good morning hours yapping away, then I might as well just go on back to sleep. I would kill for even 30 more minutes of deep, dreamless, quiet sleep, it’s just not worth the guilt and self-battery, so I’m up for the day. Nothing, not even strong, black, sugar-less coffee is working right now, I’m so damn sleepy!!


Lately I’ve discovered writing that I can only aspire to get to, work that speaks to an inner voice in me, writing that shouts talent, a true gift. It has truly inspired me to take what I love to do, the only consistent thing I’ve loved to do all my life a little bit more seriously, from now on, I shall write at least three posts a week, I’m a student, I have no excuse not to write, I spend all my days zoning out in class, passing time gossiping in the cafeteria after class, dragging myself back to class and daydreaming about getting home to jersey shore or some other reality thrill that helps me escape from my own miserable existence. I love reality shows! Shoot me.


Jackson Biko’s blog has been a true inspiration, I love his expressive writing, he makes it look like an effortless work of art rather than hours spent pounding at the keyboard staring at the blank white page and hoping to derive inspiration from it. I’m guessing correctly that years of various life experiences, travel and encounters with people from all walks of life haven’t hurt his talent either.  He makes 2000 words look like a piece of cake, I’ve done 365 words and I’m already drawing blanks.But that is the beauty of a blog, it’s your space, no pre-set rules, no word count allocation, no penalties for not using spell check, or using words from other languages or making up your own words, or just going on and on about my life, plus I can use whatever colour I choose! anyone that has a problem with it can just click close on the page and move on to a fashion blog with much fewer words.


I’ve been watching the secret diary of a call girl, at first I liked it (I’m in season 3, if that’s anything to go by), but recently it has left me quite un-settled. It’s the people who look the plainest, the common folk, the good people who do things that blow our minds. She’s a secretary, a good majority and the kinkiest I might add, of her clients are bank managers, insurance brokers, regular, trustworthy people with wives they seem to adore and kids they obviously love. Each time someone lets a comment such as, “He would never do such a thing”, “Who her? She’s a church girl, you can trust her”, “But he’s such a nice guy!” I hold my breathe, those are the worst kind largely because those are the ones that knock your socks off.


Each time, we still have the same look of utter disdain and shock. I don’t know how character is judged anymore, all I know is, with time everything is always revealed and no one is quite what they seem at first glance everyone wears a front, some don’t quite get it to fit but others, the better actors and actresses, out there wear it professionally and play it effortlessly those are the ones I pray never to get too involved with, those are the kind that leave scars that no fading cream will ever get rid of.


That’s what I try to think of each time I want to say that about Mc W, so I stop myself from making such embarrassing declarations, though if he tries such crap he knows I’ll cut him. Awhile back, actually about a year or two back, my very close and dear friend, let’s call her Honey, was very fond of shouting those declarations from the mountain top, very sure of her situation so naturally we were very curious about this beau and we had to meet him. And meet him we did. To say we expected a lot more, to say she grossly oversold him is to exceedingly understate it. But what stuck out most is his very friendly manner towards the women folk attending, I thought that a tad inappropriate but I let it go, what I couldn’t let go of though, was at the club when the nigger had the audacity to try nibble at my ear and proceed to try have sex with me in HER house when we hot back home! The chutzpah, the sheer nerve! Really? We’d just met…you’re girlfriend’s friends? Day one of meeting? What happened to seeking approval? Being on one’s best behaviour because you know the importance of first impressions?!! it’s beyond me!

I seriously considered letting her know but couldn’t get the nerve to tell my dear friend that the man she’s been cooing about for the longest time, the love of her life, her best friend was a lying, cheating, horny son of a bitch worse than the rest of them because clearly the man has no conscience! Long story short, I never said a word to her for reasons I do not wish to justify, she is now 6months with child and engaged to the bastard and I can’t help but wonder…if I told her would she have taken my word for it, dumped the loser and found herself someone deserving of her time and her amazing personality or would she have confronted him with my word against his, would he have worked his charm, convinced her I was just jealous of what they had, come up with a version where I had pulled a move on him and therefore in one swift motion severed a friendship and brought her closer to him, her hero. There is no way of telling now, every once in a while when she declares her fiancé's faithful and heroic nature I feel a stab of guilt and I try to brush it off, it’s unlikely that I will ever completely be rid of it but I’ve let it be, I chose to live with it rather than destroy a lifelong friendship, I can only hope that he doesn't mess with her health in any way and that she may continue to live in blissful oblivion, life is cruel as it is, no one needs the knife getting twisted.

my window…

Every now and then, when you’ve lost track of the general direction in you’re life, something gives that throws you right back on that long road with it’s speed bumps and occasional,frequent rough and dusty murram patches.







As a younger girl (I’m still pretty young in my books), I put all my frustrations, drab moments, sad times, good times, hopes and aspirations on paper. The beauty of documentation is you get to analyse your temperament just by flipping through the worn out, browning pages of memories. It takes you back on a journey we had completely let go of, not by choice but by getting on life’s swift current and not trying hard enough to tread on the spot and let the memories take over just for awhile, to help you see how far you’ve come, and judge how much  farther we need to go.



My writing through the years portrays a girl, transforming into a woman with each stroke of her pen, fighting the adversaries that threaten to break her, working not to let what goes on around her imprint a life-long impression unless it matters, learning what matters and what she could do without, getting stuck and letting stuff she could have done without define her days and take her to dark lonely corners where she cried and no one heard, no one noticed her shaking shoulders and no one stopped to see her glistening cheeks where the weak beam of light hit her profile and no one cared to see her trembling lip.


I don’t know about other writers or if other writers are plagued with the same problem, for the longest time, I struggled to find a font that defined me, a font that worked with my words and made them feel more personal, as if I was writing from my own pen; it takes quite a bit of searching through the thousands (are they thousands? well maybe hundreds) of fonts provided to find one that works for you. I found Comic Sans MS and Segoe Script do my writing justice, the former for all my writing and the latter for my letter writing, God knows there are never enough letters to write. I’d type my work on a word document and copy paste it to my blog until I discovered windows live writer that synchs me directly to my blog with all the perks of word, except the line spacing but with a much more special feel to it.


My writing to date still portrays a young, impressionable woman who could do better than average, who should never settle for what she could do better without and who struggles to keep her spine straight as an arrow strained against a bow, sometimes letting the exhaustion take over with the hope that someone, anyone breaks her fall. Whose tired eyes still have glimpses of life, impulsiveness and days of laughter.


I write because it gives me a window to look out of and feel my backbone relax as I let go and truly become me, it’s the only time I am myself, wholly.