I’ve been studying for an exam the past few days. The pass mark is 70%, and I achieved 67.5%. Two questions short of a pass. Oh no!!
Tag Blog
Having Fun
This morning I read a post by the happy Quitter. About making new friends and having fun. I love fun. I love people. I love friends. But I don’t seem to have too many of any of them. My life generally consists of work (in a technical role, so not too much social interaction there), traveling to and from the city, spin class and Pilates on Mondays, and home time. Blog writing to keep myself sane. I have a few friends in Sydney, my BFF close by (thank goodness for her), and a couple of other friends that I see every few months. I would not know how to go about changing my life to include more #fun. Fun for me is socializing, spending time with friends, listening to music, dancing. My BFF went to a fifties party last week. We are not in that social circle, so were not invited. It sounded like they had a great time.
My oldest friend in South Africa is of African descent. We used to have heaps of fun together. Laughing and joking and being silly. Something that I appreciate from spending time with her growing up, is that in their community, they are very welcoming. No airs and graces. They will accept you for who you are. I have found that social circles in Sydney and even in South Africa can be very closed. You are either part of the circle or you are not. I reached out to her last week. Oh my friend, I really miss you, even though distance may separate, you are still in my heart. She responded by sending me the image above “The most valuable antique is an old friend”. I told her, my friend, I am not that old yet. So she sent me another one. Bless!
Not Falling Far
In response to The Daily Post’s writing prompt: “I’ve Become My Parents.”
Do you ever find yourself doing something your parents used to do when you were a kid, despite the fact you hated it back then?
My mother was the nurturer and carer in my childhood home. My father was the disciplinarian, and has a short temper. I knew to behave around him and speak with respect. No back-chatting or arguing. He would not tolerate it. I am scared of men even today. I had to choose a life-partner who did not display a temper. Because my mother was soft-natured I could get away with more. And as children are, they learn boundaries and push those boundaries where they know they can. I kept to myself at home, my sister used to help prepare the evening meal and chat about her day with our mother. I would listen in, write in my journal, and focus on my schoolwork. Not really sharing much.
I thought when I grew up I would naturally be a mother like my own. But I realized quickly I am more like my father. I discipline my children. I do not tolerate disrespect. I have a shorter fuse than my husband. My husband is the nurturer. He reads the bed time stories. He tries new recipes. He is constant and calm. My mother was the rock holding our family together, and my husband is the same. I am still wrapped up in my own world, writing on my blog, or being pre-occupied with work, or fantasy-land or whatever is on my mind.
My daughter and I are on the same wavelength. She chats to me all the time. My son seems to be more like me when I was growing up. Just being there, but not sharing much. I can see that part of myself reflected in him. And I know there’s nothing I can do to change it.
Growing up in South Africa
Yesterday I updated a post to include a school photograph taken when I was eight. I was taken aback at the few things that stood out for me. I have written before about how unhappy I was at moving to a new school, and right before me was the evidence. It looks like I was scowling, and turned away from the camera as if I didn’t want to be there (which I didn’t).
Also, the other thing that seemed so normal to me at the time was the demographics of the class. I was brought up in the height of apartheid-era South Africa, and captured in the photograph was a testament to that. My children in Australia attend the local public school, and in their class they have children of all races.
I became especially aware of the politics of the country when I went to a convent at the age of 13, which was allowed by the State to include children of all races. My best friend turned out to be of dark skin, and we became the best of friends. This was from the year 1987, when apartheid was still strictly enforced. My friend was not allowed to catch the same bus as me. We were not allowed to have coffee in a coffee-shop together. But we looked past all that, and enjoyed the friendship that we had. It was just how it was. We are still friends today, even though I am so far away. What it taught me is that friendship is color-blind. Policies can dictate, but love overrules.
First Crush
In response to The Daily Post’s writing prompt: “First Crush.”
My first crush was a boy by the name of Paul (middle row third from left, age 8). I was standing directly to the left of him. Not looking too happy in my new school. I had a crush on him from the age of twelve. My mother suggested that since it was now 1986 and not the dark ages (#feminism), perhaps I should invite him ice-skating. (Advice I would never give my daughter, men must take the lead!) So I called him (his older sister was friends with my sister so I had access to his landline). He put me on hold so he could go and ask his mother. She said no. At school on Monday he joked about it with the others in the class. (I asked him out, how dare I!) I learnt my lesson well.
Advice to my daughter:
No asking boys or men out! Attract them if you must, but they must pursue! End of story.
Style
In response to The Daily Post’s writing prompt: “The Clothes (May) Make the (Wo)man.”
I have four sets of clothes:
Casual summer
Work summer
Casual winter
Work winter
I wear a lot of skirts and styled dresses. Heels to work and flats at home.
This is what I wore yesterday. I felt so good I took a selfie (lol, tmi!) 🙂 spotty dotty black teeny weeny polka dots. With designer boots 😉
Today I’m wearing an LBD (little black dress) with a purple pendant tied with ribbons.
Window into my world!
Writing on Demand
In response to The Daily Post’s writing prompt: “Land of Confusion.”
I am doing a writing course. But I have not been able to write anything!
When I am asked to write something for an assignment, I cannot. There are simply no words. Blank space. Vapor. At the moment we are workshopping around the room and I have nothing. Nothing at all! I cannot write on demand.
Execution Night
In the next few hours while some of us are asleep, nine souls are going to be tied to a cross and shot. Dead. Amongst them, brothers, sons, husbands, fathers, a daughter and mother.
People will say they did the crime, now do the time. They are going to be doing the time. By paying with the rest of their lives.
Myuran Sukumaran, a reformed man (if only because he was caught), will refuse a head mask. He will be facing his executioners until he can no longer see. Hands and feet bound, there will be nowhere to go.
Nine cheap coffins have been delivered. White coffins to match their white clothes. White clothes with a target sign to mark their heart. Their dying day has already been engraved on a wooden cross to mark their lives.
They know the date, they know the time, they know the manner in which they will die. And now all they have to do is wait. Until their hearts are peppered with bullets. Ten shooters for each soul, three with live ammunition *so that no one knows who fired the final fatal shot*
And those that refuse mercy, will have dinner, and sleep, and live their lives. Perhaps watch with satisfaction the agony of the mothers and fathers and sisters and brothers and children left behind. Content with their hearts untouched by bullets, and untouched by mercy too.
Thank You!
Thank you for all the kind wishes sent my way. The WordPress community is really wonderful, am so touched to have received so many kind words and wishes from souls living in different parts of the world, people I’ve never met, the kindness and community spirit is overwhelming!
You have helped to make my day very special, I am filled with gratitude, thank you!
This cute little puppy belongs to my best friend, her name is Charlie, I received these photos this morning to wish me happy birthday!
🌷🌸💐🌸🌷
Melancholy
Where I will be from next week Tuesday to Fridays
It is sunny in Sydney today. We do not live right near the coastline, but on days like these I wish we did. I have a craving to pop onto the beach sand and go for a walk, hearing the sound of the ocean waves. But the craving does not extend to going for a forty minute drive to do so. I am feeling sadness wash over me, reminiscent of this time of year. April always has it’s own feel about it. It is my birthday month, and the month I lost my mother. Today is my niece’s birthday in South Africa, she will be ten today.
I took a sabbatical from work to spend time with my children, to enjoy my blog, and to finish my book. My book is finished. The first publisher let me down, so I am now publishing with another company. They do not seem to be in any rush to get it out the door it seems. But my part is done. I would have loved to have had a hard copy on my first day back at work, it seems that day is still a few weeks away. Even so, I love reading the pages on my iPhone, it makes me happy. I have learnt a lot in the past few months – inDesign skills, stock images, visual design. A whole new set of skills. My children’s book has been written, the illustrations and design of which are both work-in-progress.
I feel sad to leave the routine that I have created behind. Also, not sure what work I will be doing, apparently there is work waiting for me. I do not know what is in store, it always changes. This time next week I will be back in the office, and my blogging frequency will most likely decrease. Have started an online poetry course with the University of Iowa. I may share some of my posts here (Teddy Bear Haiku (I) from yesterday was the first), and look forward to learning “official” poetry skills. My blog lay dormant from Jan 2014 to Sept 2014, I really wanted to write and there was a desire to do so, but I didn’t know what to write about. Starting the Daily Prompts in September last year really helped to inspire me. Thankful for all the help and encouragement from the readers at WordPress, and especially those who have read from the beginning, helping and encouraging at each step ❤
My daughter is playing with the neighbours outside. I can hear their voices. My son is at a friend. It is his last year of "primary" school, next year he changes schools. My children are slipping out my fingers. The radio is playing, and the songs are making me somewhat melancholic. From next week I have a new beginning. A new beginning in a renovated office (my old desk is gone!). As an aside, I stood outside the building pictured above on a February day in 2007, wishing that some day I could work there. (I worked for the same company in South Africa). Not knowing how to make it happen. And it all fell into place. My time there is not yet complete, going back for another session!
The end of this precious time of my life, and a new beginning.
Thank you for reading 🙂
❤
Poems and Petals 