In response to The Daily Post’s writing prompt: “Plead the Fifth.”
What question do I hate to be asked?
When is my birthday?
Because I have two.
The day on which I was born (25th April)
And the day on which all my paperwork is recorded (24th April)
I celebrate on the 24th *because that’s what all my documentation says*
But as my mother would remind me every year, she gave birth to me and it happened on the 25th.
Confused, much?
In response to The Daily Post’s writing prompt: “Me Time.”
Every Saturday morning I read in bed. It is my time to read. I used to read a South African magazine called YOU (on my iPad because I can’t buy them in Sydney).
But now I read the Daily Prompt writers. With limited time I am not always able to read the other Daily Prompters, and my WordPress reader is filled with poetry. So Saturday morning is now reserved for Daily Prompt.
My very kind husband makes me tea when I wake up. My father used to bring me tea in bed every morning when I was a child. And when I married, my husband started doing the same. And then a short while later he makes Cappucino coffee for both of us. I am spoilt!
Thank you for reading!
P.S I am on AEST, so am already on Sunday morning
As I awake and
As I breathe I feel
My beating heart
I am alive, I am
Aware, to see a
Brand new day
So let me live and
Let me be, allow my
Words to be my
Symphony
Favorite Blog Post:
My favorite post would be my first prose that I wrote. I posted to my FB account, along with others that I wrote after, and a friend encouraged me to start a blog.
https://movingtowardsthelight.com/2013/10/13/celebration-of-spring/
It was only after I posted this post to my newly born blog, I came to realize how much I hated re-reading it.
I decided to focus on poetry. But after being overwhelmed at a One-Day Poetry Workshop at the University of Sydney – 2014, I decided to stop writing (because I don’t know how to write). I resumed in September last year when a series of events upset the heart of me. Therapy is too expensive.
And after all, writers write.
Most enjoyable way to spend $500
Boutique shopping
Because shoppers shop (only sometimes) (when we are working, and have money to shop)
Answer to the meaning of life
Why are we born?
To be manifested into the physical realm to create lives for eternity
Where do I eat breakfast
Table in my kitchen
What am I grateful for from last week, and what am I looking forward to next week?
Receiving my book design (!!!!!!!!!!), looking forward to high tea with my teacher and friend from 1984. But not looking forward to saying goodbye.
THANK YOU for reading 🙂
My voice—it does belong to me
The thoughts that wander through my mind
The feelings felt upon my heart,
My mind, my soul
Are unique in how they appear to be
Just as my fingerprints are
Uniquely mine
So are those words I type—
My voice is part of me
In response to The Daily Post’s writing prompt: “A Plot of Earth.”
I would build a home with a wrap-around porch, furnished with chairs and jugs of sparkling water with slices of lemon added (instead of lemonade).
I would sit on the porch and admire the scenery, and finish all my half read books. Because now that I blog, I ain’t never gonna finish any of them.
I have spent some time with my Year 4 teacher. Year 4 was my fourth year of school. It is the year I turned 10. My teacher is visiting Sydney with her best friend, who is the mother of a South African friend of mine. Her best friend is also a teacher, and taught my sister. I am reminded of how small this world is. It is surreal to spend time with someone from my life thirty years ago. And once one gets past the exterior change, the mannerisms of that person are still the same. The essence of one does not change.
I had a passing thought. Remember 1984? Oh. Yes, I remember sitting in the classroom. I remember my teacher reading us The Enchanted Wood. I had already read it a few times myself. I liked my teacher then. And I like her now.
And then I remember 1984. That was the year I wished to die. That was the year I experienced anger and wrath. And I felt fear. My life changed that year. And my fear would stay with me. It would influence my choice of husband. The way I live my life.
My daughter is nine today. It is her birthday. I do not believe she has ever felt fear. She is confident and passionate and sure of herself. I grew up hiding and scared and reserved. It is only through writing that I have found that I am as passionate as my daughter is. When I get past the fear and reserve that I carry as part of me, there is passion.
Reaching Meadow Lane is authored by a friend of mine in Johannesburg. Amazing the situations others go through without saying a word about it at the time. Fascinating reading, and I had no idea of her experiences when we were in close contact. (Apart from being too caught up in my own experiences at the time).
How it was ever possible? No matter which cinema in the whole of South Africa; no matter which movie was booked, the Mad Man would choose and book the only broken chair! How is that ever conceivable? Yet, as a honorable husband, he would deem it necessary that we swap chairs because you have to make your wife sit on a broken chair during the duration of a movie. To this day, I recall only one occasion in which the chair was genuinely broken. Just as we would move multiple times in a restaurant while having coffee, we too, would move multiple times in a cinema to find the best position on a functioning chair. Adding this complexity, the Mad Man would insist that the wind, coming from somewhere, would be traveling up his back and making him cold. Why is it then that I could never feel this wind?…
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At my graduation May 1996, a month after I lost my mother.
https://dailypost.wordpress.com/dp_prompt/daily-prompt-2/
I studied a Bachelor of Science degree with a specialization in Computer Science and Applied Math. I loved the Applied Math and could have continued with financial math and quantitative management after my initial degree. But decided not to do so.
A few years later I unearthed a document at home. I had been granted a bursary to study my honors degree in computer science (all expenses paid with spending money), but decided at the time not to accept. I had been offered a graduate position at IBM and decided to work instead.
My roles have all been in software development. The first few years I specialized in IVR (interactive voice response) technology and speech recognition. Also integration services around these applications. With the advent of mobile apps the speech and IVR applications are becoming less relevant. I started writing in C and then progressed to Java.
And now I write in poetry!
Where I work (on the fifth floor)
https://dailypost.wordpress.com/dp_prompt/race-the-clock/
In the beginning of February 2007 I went on a training course in Sydney, Australia. I met up with a business acquaintance who introduced me to a business partner of his. When I returned home I sent the business partner my resume, and that of my husband. The company I worked for in Johannesburg had an office on Sydney, and I really wanted to work for them.
The first company contacted me a few weeks later with an offer of a contract position for either my husband or I, with a permanent role to possibly follow. My husband accepted the position. My Johannesburg manager had previously worked with the manager in the Sydney office of my current company and offered to act as a reference for me. It was an offer I couldn’t refuse.
My husband and I packed up our home. He left first and I followed six weeks later with our two young children, my son only having turned four in that same week. We arrived in Sydney with both of us having work.
And from that we gained permanent residence and citizenship. We have been back to South Africa three times in seven years for a total of six weeks.
Poems and Petals 