Oh Blog It All

Let’s see, the champagne is chilling in the fridge, Kevin Smith is all set to keep me company till midnight. I think that’s a good way to see in the new year.

Happy New Year to all of you reading, may you find the happiness you seek in 2008. Cheers, see you next year.

Since moving back to Joburg I seem to have lost the ability to sleep late. This despite getting to bed after midnight several nights in a row and being dog tired. Instead, come 05h00 or there abouts I am wide awake, unable to go back to sleep.

Its been a huge problem but I may have found a solution of sorts this morning, namely:

1) Get to bed at about two in the morning
2) Wake up at five with a pounding headache
3) Head downstairs for a glass of juice so that you can swallow down some painkillers
4) Nearly fall down the stairs because you’re navigating the stairs sans glasses and can’t see a damn thing
5) Head back up stairs, with juice in hand, this time counting the stairs for future reference when next you have to stumble about blindly
6) Spend a good five minutes mucking about with the child proof cap on the bottle of painkillers
7) Break painkillers into tiny pieces and swallow individually because you can’t swallow them whole
8) Crawl back into bed
9) Lie perfectly still while you wait for the painkillers to kick in
10) Finally fall asleep and have sweet dreams about giant Jacuzzis, the Queen of England and lesbians
11) Wake up when painkillers wear off
12) Stumble out of bed, have round two with the child proof cap
13) Swallow down pain killers and lie perfectly still while you wait for them to kick in
14) Fall asleep and have wickedly inappropriate dreams about people you know - bad, bad dreams that are oh. so. good.
15) Wake up and decide that this is all worth blogging about so you write it all down
16) Go back to sleep

Or I could, you know, go to bed at a reasonable hour but then what would I have to blog about?

So Christmas has been and gone and it seems Santa doesn’t exist. Or if he does, well then I couldn’t have been very nice this year because he passed right over my house.

There is more to Christmas than presents though and for the small price of a three hour drive and half a tank of petrol I got what I really wanted for Christmas, a perfect day with my family. There was the huge lunch with all the trimmings (because my family doesn’t do things by halves) but more importantly there was time spent with people I haven’t seen in too long. Most didn’t know I was going to be there so to see the look of surprise on their faces was the best gift of all.

As my sister said later in the day, we are going to have to stop surprising Granny, she’s going to have a heart attack one of these days.

And I owe an apology to the people living in Polokwane. Folks it if seemed a helluva lot brighter outside on Christmas day than normal then it was probably because I was parading around in nothing more than sun block and a bikini, supposedly working on my tan; next to me Snow White looks like a bronzed beach babe. I’m home now and the bikini is packed away until next year so you can pack away the shades and leave the house again.

Speaking of leaving the house, it seems if I want to make my mother happy I am going to have to get out the house and, uh, do stuff. My mother, God bless her, has decided she is ready to be a grandmother and she’s looking to me to make it happen. Clearly my mother believes in miracles because she was asking me whether I was going to make it happen this year. Uh, no ma, not this year and next year isn’t looking good either. I’m not even sure I want to have children and even if I did it’s not like I can do this by myself.

Mind you, if miracles do happen then it’s entirely possible that when I get home tonight Dave Gahan is waiting on my doorstep. In which case lets hope we don’t get it right first time.

It’s ever so tempting to blog that my weekend consisted of flings and threesomes only that would be a tad misleading. For one, there was a lot more to my weekend than that and two, those ‘flings’ and ‘threesomes’ can be found in the sweets and chips isle of your local Pick ‘n Pay.

It was also a weekend full of discoveries.

Like I discovered a great CD as Musica for only R33.00 so now I can sing along to a song that tells me not to go chasing waterfalls. Not that I’m going to take the advice, I just like the song.

I discovered that playing snap at Boulders is quite a challenge but do-able.

I discovered that though it doesn’t look it, my couch is eminently suited for napping on, especially if I am determined enough and tired enough and late enough for an appointment.

I made the happy discovery that I don’t know someone as well as I thought I did. That this person possesses some hidden depths and a wicked sense of humour is like Christmas come early. I used to think this person pretty special before, now this person rocks. And I’m fortunate to call this person friend, still.

I also discovered that the people who love me don’t just say nice things about me because they love me. I met someone for the first time on Friday who told me things I never wanted to believe about myself but now I might have to.

And lastly, I think I may have discovered that I do possess a little patience. Not much but enough to get me through this time in my life.

Now if only I could wake up tomorrow and discover that not only does Santa exist, he’s brought me what I want most in life. Now that would be the best discovery of all.

For most games there are a clearly defined set of rules. From the outset all the players have an equal chance. It’s their skill and cunning, their tenacity and experience coupled with a dash of good old-fashioned luck that determines the winner in the end. But they all play by the same rules.

Not so the game of life. For one, there is no definitive set of rules that applies to all of us equally. And two, there are games within games that get played and the rules keep changing.

I hate playing games, says she who proudly calls herself a gamer, and I’m not very good at them. But I still find myself trying to play them, thinking that the prize* at the end is worth it if I can just figure out the rules and play by them. Like I said though, they keep changing.

So I thought to make my own rules and play by those. What good does it do me though when I keep changing my own rules? Silly that I do that but I can’t seem to help myself; I feel as if I am loosing the game and I don’t know what else to do.

I so much want to win but I’m not the only one playing. There are other players all playing by different rules, all wanting to win. I don’t even know who decides who the winner is; I just know that every day the prize seems to be slipping further and further away.

There is always the option of not playing at all except what fun would that be? Besides which, who ever is in charge doesn’t like for me to give up so they throw me the odd tidbit, just a little something to remind me the game isn’t over, that I still have a chance. So off I go again, hoping today is the day a little bit of good luck will come my way and I can play to win again.

Yes, the prize is worth it.

Of course all I may end up with is second prize or a consolation prize or even a booby prize; the game isn’t over till the prize giving, so I keep playing.

* Prize, heart’s desire – call it what you will. There is always this vague notion, this hope that there is something, anything at the end that will make this all worthwhile.

It wasn’t quite what he expected but then Harrison had never died before and wasn’t quite sure what to expect.

The room looked like a library or sorts, the kind you’d find in the country estate of some posh English Lord. There were huge windows overlooking the garden. The bookshelves stretched floor to ceiling and were filled with the kinds of books Harrison was sure he wouldn’t want to read.

There was no furniture in the room, only a shabby looking carpet and piles and piles of books all over the floor. They seemed to form a kind of maze and getting to the windows looked as if it would be a challenge.

Harrison wondered how long he’d been there, how he’d even got there. He remembered headlights and being paralysed, unable to move out of their way. Then it seemed like he’d blinked and was suddenly in this room, this library.

There was no sound to indicate that he was no longer alone in the room, just a sense of someone behind him, waiting. He turned around slowly and beheld an angel.

Of course Harrison had never seen an angel either but surely this had to be an angel. There was no obvious wings or halos, no billowing white gown, just a being in a grey robe who seemed to be filled with some kind of inner light; the room felt brighter.

Harrison tried to decide if the angel was male or female but then thought that perhaps angels were beyond gender. It was hard to tell in any case, the angel looked so young but strong, looked as if it had seen a sight or two in its time.

The silence stretched and it became awkward for Harrison. He thought he ought to say something, wanted to say something but felt that the angel probably knew what he wanted to say before he did.

The angel smiled and spoke.

“Welcome Harrison”

Harrison decided that the angel was a she, her smile and her voice like music and sunshine and sweet wine all rolled into one.

“Is this heaven?” Harrison blurted out.

The angel laughed, “Is this what you thought heaven would be like?”

“No, I never thought heaven would be…” he trailed off, suddenly struck by the realization that he didn’t have any idea of what he thought heaven might be like. He was sure he’d given it thought at some point but he could not recall what he’d imagined. He just knew it wasn’t this, a library with a threadbare carpet and too many books.

“This is not heaven Harrison. And if it is not heaven then it begs the question, why are you here?”

“I don’t know” said Harrison. “I was driving along, minding my own business then my car stalled. There were headlights, I blinked and then I was here”

“Where is here?” Harrison added.

“Here is a moment in time, a moment of your time Harrison. Not many are given this moment. You are one of the privileged few.”

“Privileged? Me? I don’t know so much about that!”

“Tell me why the car stalled Harrison”

“Because it’s a beat up piece of shit that belongs on the rubbish dump” said Harrison. Then he regretted the profanity, one did not speak that way in the presence of angels.

“And?” prompted the angel.

“And it was my own stupid fault. I know the car was on its last legs but she made me so angry. I had to get away, anywhere”

“She loves you Harrison”

“So she says, so she says. But all she’s ever done is hurt me. Just when I think there can be a future for us, her and I, Us” Harrison could not bring himself to finish. There was a lump in his throat and he was trying hard not to cry in front of the angel. He thought the angel might put her arms around him and comfort him and somehow the thought of sympathy from an angel seemed the saddest thought of all.

“She loves you Harrison and she is but human. Humans make mistakes; it is what makes watching them so interesting”

“Why are you here Harrison, shall I tell you?”

“Please, please” said Harrison.

“No Harrison, you tell me. You should be sticky squished flesh all over the tarmac right now. But you’re not, not yet. So why Harrison, why are you here?”

“I don’t know!” shouted Harrison, “I wish to God I did know”

“You don’t believe in God Harrison”

Oh fuck, a smart alec angel he thought. And then Harrison was angry. He started picking up the books in reach and hurling them every which way. He aimed for the windows though he could not throw far enough to reach.

Then he stumbled and fell to his knees, he was going to be sick and could not stop himself. He was at the side of the road, his curry dinner a regurgitated splat on the gravel. His hiccups seemed to disturb the unnatural silence that surrounded him.

Harrison realized that he was no longer in the library, wondered if he had ever been there. He got slowly to his feet. The car, what was left of it, was on the other side of the road. It had become one with the tree it seemed. There was no other car in sight. He walked slowly over to have a look at the car, his car that he had been driving no more than a moment ago.

It was hard to imagine how he’s got out of there in one piece. But he had it seemed.

Then the night was filled with the sound of a tinny Christmas jingle; his cellphone was ringing.

“I love you Harrison, come home” she said.

Harrison turned around and started on the walk home.

I feel ever so posh now that I have an ‘upstairs’ and a ‘downstairs’

I got my first ‘welcome to the neighbourhood’ from the 7 year old living next door.

Best welcome I’ve ever had.

I do have one complaint about my neighbours though, no open wifi connection. I mean really people, I thought you were happy to have me there.

The cat’s favourite spot for chilling out is at the top of the stairs.

I have been advised not to negotiate the stairs unless I am 100% sober - and that was before the cat arrived.

It’s never quiet, which is a good thing. Total silence would drive me crazier than I already am.

Nothing to do with the new place but I really do worry too much. And assume the worst all the time. But these are things I can work on, can fix. A new place is a good place to start making a new me.