Jersey Boys and Franki Valli

The energies around me are shifting to places that I cannot interpret anymore. Someone threw out the instruction manual of my life and all I can rely on these days is change and the knowledge that anything can happen in an instant and bring severe circumstances with it, and you have to roll with the punches and try to survive. The days of working a decent nine to five and earning money to get by seem strangely easy, blissful even, in comparison.

My friend T was a victim of internet fraud today, a month before she would finally be paid for the first time in ages, after being unemployed for a while. She is devastated, in shock.

Had an uncontrollable urge to download the Jersey Boys album of Frankie Valli and The Four Seasons, especially the song ‘Who Loves you’. It must be from a past life, it brings back incredibly deep feelings of bliss and joy that are indescribable. So this show is on at the West End at the moment and seems to have rave reviews. Really want to see it. It is the story of the lives of the group members and their times in the sixties and seventies amongst Italian American mafia style situations and that working class New York, passionate lifestyle again. What energy, I wish I had that energy, that passion cursing through my veins right now, or ever. And the men were gorgeous and so romantic and real, enough to make you infatuated, unlike here and now. They had drive and chutzpah. FV looks like Al Pacino. Need I say anymore?

Abuse Part 2

Sometimes I wish I could just get cancer and know that there is a certain end in sight. Right now I feel like the living dead. Correction, death would be easier. Living is hell. Even in my darkest of dark days back home I always knew I could go back to my parents.

Right now I feel like I am being forced to endure a slow death with no option for a fast one. Every day I stand on the border of facing the possibility of having to put the place on the market and hope for the best, and every day closer to that I have less and less money. Had I done it sooner, I would be in a less crap situation but relying on FW is as usual always to my detriment.

I feel very weak today, I don't even have the energy to feel sad anymore. Just emptiness. I think FW would be happy if I suddenly died (and left a hefty insurance payout for him). It would solve all his problems. Then he could go out and meet the 101 women he keeps mentioning that are interested. The truth is, if he would just leave, I could move on with my life. But he remains here, ostensibly in a relationship that is clearly gone, ostensibly fairly contributing, ostensibly helping me but he is only using me to get his way as usual.

I will not deny that FW contributes a fair share to the expenses, especially now, but what really pisses me off is that I contributed so much more when I was working and even his increased contributions can't even things out now, and he dares to insist that he is 'keeping' me now, does that mean that I was keeping him when I was working?

I calculated today that compared to all the contributions FW has made since he moved in here he has actually only paid 28% of the total expenses for the flat over the last 17 months. When I footed the majority of the expenses, I did not go around telling everyone that he lived in my flat and that I covered most of the bills or in any way make him look small to his friends or family. Now he insists that people find it very generous of him to be 'keeping' me. That they think I have it all. And based on his character he he must be spinning some very embellished stories to all concerned.

Last year when the plan was for me to stop work and be at home until we managed to (as a partnership) get a working visa for me, I did not expect to be the victim of psychological abuse derived mainly from alcohol abuse on his part. As a result I did not pursue a visa on the basis of my relationship with him. That was not expected. He said he would support me when I left work. And when we had the conversation in January, he said he was ashamed and let me down and that he would do anything he could to make up for it, including paying my rent if I moved elsewhere while he covered the rest of the bills whether by buying my flat or not. He even offered to get a loan to pay me for the furniture so that I would have some funds to complete my qualification, so that even though my stay here with him has been traumatic and messed up my chances of getting a visa, I would still have some validation, that he could salvage something.

Seems like all talk now. Now he says he only agreed to help out for a little while. Suddenly all apparent remorse was bullshit. Suddenly he wants to hold the cards and fuck me over, again. I feel more inspired now to pursue the domestic abuse case, as FW feels he can get away with everything. I am so sick and tired of it all.

Today he insists he pays me x amount of money a month, what an absolute load of bullshit, I have my bank statements to prove that is not the case, and he says we are finished. When were we not finished and more realistically, when is he going to be finished enough to just leave me alone and piss off? I dont even care about the money now, I am just angry that yet again, when I was on the brink of throwing him out in January, he manufactured these white lies to passify me and let him stay, he didn't even mean a single word. I still have the texts to prove how apparently sorry he was. If anything that is a sure indicator of the kind of liar he is.

And he always creates an argument out of absolutely nothing, especially when the lounge door is open so that all the neighbours can hear and he provokes me just to the point of yelling, which I think is exactly what he wants, because after that, after he carefully says exactly what he knows will piss me off, he resorts to 'I dont want to argue now'. How fucking marvellous. He argues until: he realises he is wrong/can't defend himself anymore/I am angry/the neighbours are listening and this alone satisfies the sadistic fuckwit.

I cant wait to get this all over with.

Autumn Leaves

The light at the end of the tunnel is still there, but now I'm beginning to imagine all sorts of sabotage to the light when I actually approach it.

I've given up internet dating for good. It damages your soul in the long term. Especially if you're a serial first-dater. The good old fashioned meet-them-first is so underrated today. Period.

Tears

Friday night for the first time in a long time, I shed a few tears. After a year of emotional numbness, coupled with repetitive catharses (which sadly no one noticed as being shockingly abnormal as they were), I found myself back to – I sincerely hope- a sense of normal crying. The kind of crying, where you realise you are tearing and it isn’t coupled with an enormous, uncontrollable gushing urge to just bawl, shudder and let it all out like I have been doing over this last year.

I’m not even sure why I was crying, or why I felt so emotionally raw and open for the first time since about 2001. I half hoped that it would be the beginning of finding my lost emotional self again.

Today I am sad. Sad for playing out a life in which I choose not to go out and have fun, because it is better than feeling insulted and ignored by FW (which normally happens when we go out). I have a few personal invitations, consistently, but as much as he says go out, he always re-aligns the situation with a patronising set of questions, suggestions and behaviour that makes him look like a parent allowing a child to go out, but only under certain circumstances. And I feel uncomfortable enough to sometimes withdraw. No doubt this is his tact, to control.

I feel so trapped here. As much as this flat reflects my choice in property and my tastes in some of the decor, it is not my home. FW has dominated and even though it goes unspoken, there are things that are done his way or not at all. I have chosen for the sake of my mental balance and to keep the peace to accept them but they generally keep me in a constant state of disorientation and therefore discomfort.

Like the TV. He always has the TV on. It’s on as soon as he walks through the door and all night and quite often all our waking hours of the weekend, and let me tell you, BBC with no sky is mind numbingly boring. That’s worth repeating, it is MIND NUMBINGLY BORING. Any form of music is no competition and he complains if my music is on for too long.

When I was younger I used to joke with my friends that we were the sort who had the TV on in the background, with the sound switched off, and the stereo playing music instead. I really love playing music. Apart from calming me, it also lifts my spirits and puts me in a good mood. For as long as I can remember, a lounge to me has been a place to relax, very often with appropriate music in the background, it was who we were and who I still am. Now I have to, along with everything else that has been stolen from my life, give up the sense of calm and relaxation that I have always been used to.

I’m suddenly not surprised I had a mental breakdown last year, with everything else going on and not a moment to relax, I couldn’t take it anymore.

And the mortgage is dragging on and on. I don’t know whether it’s because FW is being unreasonable with the mortgage company or whether there is indeed a delay. The last time he applied for a mortgage, he ended up losing £500 worth of the deposit fee on the property, after I advised him to get the offer in principal first, but of course he never listens to me. This time he happens to be squealing about £200 pounds worth of admin fee that may secure the mortgage offer and wrap it up. And he seems to be making an issue out of the prolonged life cover, which I know from experience is not a major factor in the mortgage itself, it can certainly be concluded after the mortgage. He seems to have a very incorrect view as to who to remain professional to and who not to. So many times he has been unconditionally considerate and professional to those that have absolutely no bearing on the particular business at hand, and now he has crossed a professional line with his mortgage advisors, which cannot bode well for him. Perhaps he chose so to ensure the end of this connection.

I think FW is just prolonging this because it gives him an opportunity to continue living here while he drags this mortgage out - of course to my detriment. In January when we had that final conversation about his attitude, he said he was so remorseful that he had taken so much of my life away and that he wanted to make up by even offering to pay my living expenses while he bought the flat. I knew it was all talk. Now he doesn’t even contribute what he promised towards the mortgage because he says he didn’t agree for me to be unemployed for this long! So I have to deal with hell or high water trying to scrape up from anywhere just to cover the shortfall, and he has no conscience, and through this all he won’t ever stop the payments for say, the car he bought for his Goddaughter, who conversely has all the support of his family while I am here alone and used. I am always the sacrificial lamb in his life.

I believe the only way to resolve this is to get authorities involved to vacate this property and put it on the market, so that I will finally get the cash I need to move on. It may not be the best outcome, but it will give me the opportunity to get back on track again.

Attitude is Everything

I really can’t understand how an island, with a substantially large immigrant work force (menial and commercial labour), which relies mainly on imports, can be more economically efficient than a self-sufficient country with similar population levels and about 3 times the size.

Yes, I realise the labour issue back south can cause a bit of a problem, as well as geography, but the country certainly has the means by far to train the masses to be economically contributing and certainly that should have already started making an impact.

What I believe is missing back south, or not part of the patriotism of the country, is the assumption that it is a great nation, and that reflection being present in every aspect. Poor publicity of government officials doesn’t help matters ether. There is such potential to pull it together and create, firstly the impression of a first world country beyond a doubt and secondly to fulfil this by using the labour force efficiently. The technology in the more first-world sector is comparable if not superior to other first world countries. The commercial sector operates on a super-efficient level compared to some global powers.

The follies and wrong doing of first world leaders, are today, just as ridiculous as that of the third world leaders. So in a greater sense, who can really point a finger?

I am slowly beginning to realise that attitude makes all the difference. And there is a lot of it present in third world countries, but it needs to be visible.

Yet another annoying FW moment

I woke up this morning to an unfortunate striking drop in temperature from last night, and had a very achy ice-cold head, along with headache and what felt like the chill. After turning on the heaters and having a long hot bath, chicken soup, loads of vitamins and relevant pills and fluids, I think I finally started to recover. I am determined to attend every lesson of my very expensive course tuition.

So true to form, sometime this evening, after pulling my sleepy self off the couch to make a casserole on demand from FW, I discover that he opened my bedroom window and the entire hallway, and both bedrooms were freezing. I figured it may have been while he was on the treadmill, which he usually does and was a bit confused as I don’t remember him being on the treadmill, but the room smelt frozenly-fresh so I closed the window and turned on the heating. FW bitched and moaned deeply. He was apparently preparing the room for the run! What a complete jerk, is all I can say. The man should have been born of a different gender, but he will never admit it.

Daily irritations and child abuse

Things that have happened to me on the last few days:

· I started college yesterday. I had to plan so many aspects to begin smoothly it was unbelievable. Like the admin involved in combining three oyster cards into one, online. Finding a place that could replace my watch battery (which is now up and running yay!!). Washing knapsacks and making sure they are suitable for use. Tailoring pairs of new jeans and getting a wardrobe together. Addresses, directions, methods of transport. And finally the induction day when all should finally come together for the start. It wasn’t so bad but then I arrived home and realised I got given 2 wrong sets of books (which were an absolute pain to carry, they were so heavy) and this morning I had to schedule in extra time to swop one set, the other will have to wait till Thursday – too heavy. Almost got late this morning with a transport issue and am exhausted, but ok.

· Queuing for tickets on weekday mornings is a mission. There are always potentially late trains and a massive queue with people that have their fingers up their rear, and of course incompetent staff. So today and from now on I have decided to buy my tickets in advance. Something I would have gladly done ages ago had I known you could (because on some forms of transport at some stage you couldn’t so...). So I was happily heading off for the tickets this afternoon, after catching a bus that was right there when I wanted it and then a train right on time, that ended up getting me to my station much sooner, when I encountered a situation with a an idiot-male-of-this-area species. He just bluddy stood in front of me in the queue. So I said to him, ‘excuse me but I’m in the queue’ and his response was, ‘so?’!!! I tell you, it explains why there is so much common violence around here. Idiots. I managed to go to the next available teller because I absolutely just did.

· I was really sick and disturbed to see this report of child abuse. It makes me so outraged and lost. I cannot imagine how anyone could think of torturing poor young helpless kids like this. Shocking and disgusting. And Britain should very seriously stop turning a blind eye.

http://www.digitaljournal.com/article/251098/Jersey_Child_Abuse_Cellar_Discovered_By_Police

For a change...

I was really, really happy this afternoon, beautiful day, relaxing in the afternoon sun and I mentioned that I was actually in a really good mood (which doesn’t happen often) and everything was so smooth, so of course FW decided to fuck it all up and piss me right off.

This time he insisted that I talk to his mother and wish her happy mother’s day in advance of tomorrow, as I hadn’t spoken to her in ages (purposely). The main reason for this is to keep up the facade that all is well in our relationship and I am perfectly happy with them. This is not true. Had FW actually cared for the woman, he may not have felt this urgent chat necessary, but it was a means of preventing questions from arising, which happens if I don’t speak to them for long periods of time and then the expectation is that if I do, all the past is forgotten and we move to a new false position.

The thing with FW’s parents/family is that they are more dysfunctional than mine. From what I can see, they only seem to be interested in FW’s life when the following are happening:

· He’s offering them money/gifts
· He’s done something that would be considered very successful and thereby provides very boastful conversational material to impress their friends with
· He’s done something awful and thereby provides slanderous gossip to the rest of their family

Personally I prefer family members who don’t gossip about their family within family circles. I find that disgusting. Partner conversations maybe, are okay but to spread personal knowledge on someone (especially when this ruins their name and is not at all necessary), to the rest of their family, is just plain wrong.

Secondly his parents (or perhaps I should say his mother) tend to call only when they want gossipy information or when they want to show off. The conversations are very inquisitive and interrogating and they feel no shame in asking blatantly personal questions, the answers of which, of course, they misinterpret and then spread false damaging news to everyone in the family. FW also lies incredibly in these conversations, trying to make out that we socialise all the time, take many holidays, that he flies planes, takes fencing and karate lessons and most recently that he has started studying for an MBA! And often I am caught in between trying to salvedge the incorrect stories without knowing what’s been said or indeed what to say. I have managed to tolerate this up to a point which happened last year.

FW’s mother made some very insulting comments about him and myself and they crossed a line. I have not spoken to her willingly, since.

There was a text some months later that furthered this situation. I received a text from them shortly after writing my last exam wishing me good luck. I saw this as a means of testing the waters to see if (as they believe life is lived) I had forgiven their previous assertions. I didn’t respond to the text, in the same way that I didn’t respond to any others received and vice versa, and particularly because I wanted to let them know that I was not going to respond.

A week later FW got various complaints (about the text), apparently the situation had been relayed across the whole family and everyone agreed that it was indeed very wrong and rude of me not to respond back with thanks, of course without knowing the other side of the story, and so yet again to keep matters calm, I sarcastically blew sunshine up their arses and let it go. I also sent a very flowery thank you text for their birthday text to me, during which they couldn’t even be bothered calling, not that I would have wanted to speak to them anyway.

So today I really was not in any possible inclination to say anything to FW’s mother and he got the right hump about it and called our relationship off (as if we really have anything left here), muttering that so many other women were after him. Go ahead FW, have a ball, see if I care.

The Tyre

So, this week while I was happily trying to find a company to buy a new car tyre from, and I had all intentions of just going and getting it done at a supplier around the corner – myself, FW jumps in and insists that I go to another specific car place (for no reason other than that he has been there before, and this is usually his reasoning for choosing places). He started pointing out the possibility of being sold a retread. Then he tried to give me advice on how to recognise these types of tyres. Then he offered to go with me to the place after calling them up to query the price of the tyres. The main reason I was holding out to go with him was that, I got the feeling I was going to be ripped off when not in the proximity of a man, as has often been the case here in these parts.

We were meant to go on Thursday, but we both had crappy days so we decided on Thursday, to go today instead. So after a few days of waiting and waiting to finally cross this thing off my to-do list, this morning, after I reminded him that we were doing this, he suddenly turns around and says: Why don’t you just do it yourself?’

We weren’t even arguing or anything. I believe it’s laziness on his part, but what really pisses me off is that he made me wait all this time, when I could easily have done it myself, just to be let down!

Sleep beckons

Too sleepy to write anything decent...

I had my blood taken today - to establish weather I do have high testosterone levels. Don’t laugh. My body is very hormonal. I had to wake up ridiculously early (for me) and sleepily head over to the clinic. It was quick and easy. I then ended up in one traffic hold up after another until I finally gave up trying to park the car for some shopping and came back home.

Then got an incredible amount of admin and organising done, well done me.

But I can’t keep my eyes open and typing this half asleep.

Anyway hope you’re having a more awake time. Goodnight.

Immigrant Abuse

The moron is at it again. This time I slipped my arse off on the kitchen floor, because he managed to spray oil all over the countertops, cooker, hood, cupboards and floor, just by frying 2 fcking chops!!!!

And as if that wasn’t enough he had the bloody audacity to argue with me over a map that had 2 dots (this is not an exaggeration, 2 fcking dots!), saying that loads of research and time had gone into making the bloody stamp size (again, this is not an exaggeration, stamp sized) map!!

And a further ‘conversation’ we had earlier:

FW: I don’t know why they don’t just get rid of all the immigrants from this country, they’re all minions and they (tie) up the (resources) on the NHS.
Jozi: So what would happen to the commercial economy which has quite a large proportion of very skilled professionals?
FW: Britain would be better off without them, why should a poor old seventy-something man go blind because some scarf-wearing immigrant woman wants to have kids? In fact, all women should work.
Jozi: Who would look after the kids then?
FW: They should work too, they could do acting
Jozi: What about the babies?
FW: They can bloody get used for commercials as well
Jozi: Whose going to take them there if the women are working?
FW: They can do it themselves
Jozi: You are talking through your arse now!!

And of course my fcking neighbour from no. 92 was listening as the volume went up towards the end. I heard the fire door bang abruptly at this point.

And through all of this, I am the immigrant, who despite being a very well-paid professional previously, cannot secure a new visa to work here, instead I am allowed to stay without working, but am not entitled to any state benefits, and they don’t care about my living because I own property here (an obvious indication that at least I was economically contributing to the country), or that I will eventually have to get the authorities involved to remove FW if he ever crosses over the very fine line of disrespect he is currently balancing on, while sponging off me!!!

And the only reason I have not done this already is because he damn well offered to buy the place himself, but if the ever-prolonged paperwork is not forthcoming in the next few days, I will have to put the place on the market, delayed on account of waiting for FW, and all this while I have no proper income.

This is how an apparently fine, upstanding citizen takes advantage of an immigrant. And with no conscience.

Disgusting!

Its days like this when I realise that my problems in good old Jozi weren't so bad after all.

Crap day

Feeling hemmed in from all sides today.

An old friend of mine, and one whom I‘ve known for quite some time, called me today – the one who only ever seems to be in contact when he needs something from me. (This became obvious a few years ago when he started popping over to the UK on visits or business, and very conveniently staying at my place, without offering anything in lieu of appreciation, and indeed by being a very inconsiderate house guest in other ways.) Last year when I first started to panic about my apartment he responded by, ‘offering‘, to co-own my place (by verbal agreement, in which he would make use of the place from June onwards, this year, at a rental, like a lodger would pay for a room, but in this case he would expect some sort of capital benefit instead, and all of this would be conveniently ‘off ' paper.)

When I told him I was selling, he made some unsuccessful attempts at persuading me to keep the property, and then the phone calls ceased somewhat, albeit his falseness at trying to be so happy to hear from me when I called.

Today he left a message, so sweet and flowery, I thought he really wanted to say hello. Turns out he just wanted to know the name of the area I lived in, which no doubt he will use to bullshit, about co-owning my property, and quite frankly, I don’t care about that because legally he is of course not entitled to anything. What really bugs me though, is that he hasn’t really been much of a friend since I’ve had problems. If I think back 10 years, he has only sort-of been around when things were good and there was no responsibility.

My parents on the other end, are apparently happily asserting that they will be so much happier, if I was back home, as they would have someone ‘around’, meaning that they could rely/depend on me as a trusted family member. After some hesitation and bullshit attempts at feigning some form of assistance of the financial kind, none of which was ever forthcoming in any way, and certainly nothing I was asking for or needed from them, they expertly concluded that they are too old to be concerned with their kid’s problems. They are in their fifties. Hence my current assertion that I am too young to be concerned with their well being enough to warrant moving back home for their sake.

To make matters worse, on an obviously bad day, I had a mini argument with FW. We do not argue as ferociously as we used to because he is not allowed to drink in my apartment anymore, and hence behaves a bit more humanely towards me. This time it was about his constant excuses for not paying bills. They get more and more ridiculous by the day, and I end up having to foot the bill. I cannot wait for this place to be sold - so that I can move away from this black situation. And on the off chance that FW may be aware of this blog, I will say this: If it wasn’t for my foresight into exactly such a situation and making sure I had a plan B on the finances, just before I became unemployed, I would have been up shit creek right now, without a boat.

And to round off a perfectly screwed up day, I discover that my expectations on the visa front are all rubbish. I wonder if I will be able at all, to even get the visa I am holding out for now.

Peach skin and Clarins

I caught sight of my face in broad daylight the other day. (This normally never happens as my bathroom has no window, so it's always in unnatural light). It was my reflection in the blank monitor of my laptop. I wish I could describe this any other way but it looked like an old drying up peach with its hairy skin. This shocked me into immediately doing something. Clarins is always my emergency answer to these crises, and I must say, 3 applications of the face lift formula later, I started wondering why I hadn’t bought the stuff before.

Bloody amazing!

Things I hate about my flatmate - FW

FW has butter fingers and a very serious lack of common sense. As a result I have to put up with endless cleaning chores and stupid unorganised situations at home.

He spills something off every plate of food or drink he has, almost religiously, I swear the guy must think spilling is some sort of rite of passage for eating and drinking. He has no conscience about it either and I can guarantee, that if he does actually attempt to clean it up (in itself a miracle), it’s never done properly.

I have gotten used to walking into the lounge and finding spilt red wine on the carpets, all over the computer (leaving me the overly-intricate job of having to remove even the little round ball inside the mouse to get it working properly again, not to mention the printer), the walls and table top. All left, without a trace of an attempt to clean them. And he carries on the day as if nothing happened, or worse shoots back a reply of: ‘It’s only wine!’ Everything is always preceded by, ‘It’s only...’

He empties his left over coffee cups into the sink every morning with such force that the remnants splash all over the drying dishes to the side of the sink and all over the sink top. I have seen him doing it. It’s as if, he has to summon up the energy in advance to produce the otherwise unnatural force that is required to create the messy spill. He hesitates, he flicks. Victory! The cup goes into the sink. Anything neat and considerate would be a failure.

He has spilt pots of oily residue, oven grease, milk and running food on the floor and wipes them up with a dish cloth. So I, have had the distinct pleasure of walking into the kitchen and slipping right on my ass, and then later on discovering, that while using a dish cloth to dry the dishes, my dishes are being streaked with gravy - which has, more than likely, been mopped off the floor by said dish cloth. FW uses dish cloths to mop up anything in sight, I’m sure he would use them to wipe his own backside if in a hurry and then would place them right back where you would assume they are clean dish drying cloths, for the use of dish drying.

On the subject of dish cloths, I usually soak them overnight with bleach and then do a separate wash. FW simply throws them in the wash with his other clothes including his skid-marked underwear!

I have resorted to thinking twice before allowing him into the kitchen, never mind ever daring to ask if he could help, say open a jar or a bottle of coke or something as the contents would go splashing about and I would have to realise yet again that trying persistently myself would result in far less work than having to clean up after FW.

He also has a habit of placing mail and larger objects over smaller objects so that anything you assumed would be visible (or even just where you placed it in a hurry), is never so.

I went through a ‘keys’ situation for about 2 weeks before I managed to nip it in the bud. FW decided to (repeatedly) remove my keys, from the table that I have been leaving them on (for years- so that I would know every morning exactly where they were) and put them in my handbag, wherein I would never look for my keys as I would never put them there. I got late for work on about 4 mornings, looking for my keys, and of course FW denied putting them in my handbag until I finally had a yelling session at him, after which the keys have remained exactly where I put them.

My home life has degenerated into a consistent search for things. I no longer live with the pleasure of knowing where anything is. Being able to find something in a hurry is lovely surprise. I end up buying new things to replace old things that I know I will have much difficulty finding. And I have less time and more irritation living at home than I used to. FW calls this normal and can’t understand why I am so uptight.

What never ceases to amaze me about him though is the consistent lack of common sense that goes along with the bad habits and butter fingers.

Once when on holiday, I tried unsuccessfully to get ketch-up out of a new bottle with thick sauce towards the neck. I knew if I jerked the bottle any harder it would spurt all over FW and me, so I signalled the waiter to help, assuming he would probably take it back and give us a more free-flowing bottle. FW grabbed the bottle and saying it was so unnecessary to call the waiter, attempted to do it himself.

Now I will tell you that on many occasions in life, a guy has offered to help out in some situations and until FW came along, they usually managed to surprise me with information or knowledge on things I would never have thought about, so having these experiences in mind (and not having known FW for very long at the time), I believed that perhaps he knew of a neat way to get ketch-up flowing more easily out of the bottle.

The fucking moron turned the bottle over, whacked it and spurt ketch-up all over me. And then I had to walk into our 5-star hotel lobby, having been previously treated like royalty by the staff, with fucking ketch-up all over my shirt!

And then there's his habit of cooking while leaving the kitchen cupboards and cutlery drawers open, so that the sauces from the stove splash around and items inside the cupboards and drawers are generally covered in dried sauce.

Today, he announced triumphantly that he washed the dishes, and I discovered a greasy frying pan in the cupboard. It looked clean on the inside but the underneath was covered in oven grease from being left on top of a roast pan. And the grease had made its way around a few other pots and the cupboard shelf as well.

Somebody help me.

Jozi Memory

Discovered on the Bell Roberts Exhibitions:

Jozi Memory
Wayne Barker, 2007
Oil on canvas, 1000 x 1000 mm

Lovely stuff!

Friends or more?

Meeting an ex-colleague for dinner after not seeing them for months, especially one whom you think -and it’s just a smidgen of a possibility here - likes you, is a lot more difficult that you think, especially when said person also happens to be an ex-boss.

I met him last night for what was meant to be drinks and then turned to dinner, (at a ridiculously expensive restaurant), in Soho.

Having hibernated in my secluded flat for months, the first outing of this nature required an enormous amount of effort on my part, just to appear effortlessly smooth. I bought fat-burning creams, did hundreds of push ups, new make-up, new better-fitting jeans (whose hems had to be hand-sewn after the sewing machine needle broke on me, mid jean leg), layers of sexy knitwear as opposed to chunky, warm clothes (I am so glad that for some unexplained reason I did not freeze), and a fake, totally-at-ease, joie de vive attitude.

It turned out alright, I guess. The food was scrumptious, the service commendable, the company a bit laboured, but good conversation flowed and for a change I felt really comfortable.

Don’t get me wrong, I, do not fancy him, but would like to keep the friendship which, with these type of men, is very difficult, because we are very compatible, in many ways, and that old saying about men and women not being able to be friends without sex getting in the way makes me wonder about whether it relates to people like us.

I got a text from him today saying how much he enjoyed last night and we should do it again sometime.

Verdict? I don’t effing know! Not a clue.

32 things about me

Jumping on the bandwagon...what the hell, here goes...

32 things about me

1. As far as I can remember I have always wanted to be a writer (and to be somehow involved in film), however I buckled under pressure at 17 and chose to study finance instead, a choice I have sorely regretted ever since.
2. I am a dog person
3. My favourite foods are quiche, wors and roast lamb
4. I prefer (good) sex to shopping and chocolate
5. Actually I hate shopping unless I am having a good-figure phase and everything looks good on me
6. Like every other woman I know, I love shoes
7. I had braces for 5 years when I was a teenager and I still, sometimes resist the urge to cover my mouth when laughing, because of that
8. My teeth are still not completely straight
9. I was an extra in a movie once, at 19
10. I can’t play that DVD on my player here in the UK, because it is not compatible
11. I have a fear of water
12. I left Johannesburg at 26 for London and have been here ever since
13. I once dreamt of being a millionaire by the age of 22, I eventually stopped smoking that stuff
14. I can kind of understand German, if spoken slowly and clearly
15. At 6, my father wanted me to become a doctor, at 16 he wanted me to become a beauty queen, I always had other plans
16. I learnt piano for about 3 years when I was about 7, I’m still a junior at it
17. The greatest feeling in the world, to me, is freedom, the worst, feeling trapped or stagnant with no direction, hence my mid(ish)-life crisis right now
18. I don’t have a favourite colour
19. At 19 again, I trained in Latin and Ballroom for about 4 hours a day, 6 days a week, for 6 months. I believe I can dance now.
20. I love rich, old... cabernet sauvignon wine
21. Most of my best friends were Leo
22. I wrote and directed 2 plays in high school, and began to see the genius in others, from them
23. I still hold out the hope that I will one day direct or produce something meaningful and well-received
24. I love the smell of freshly baked bread and jasmine at the start of spring
25. I don’t particularly like living in London, hence this blog
26. My best friends live in another country
27. My first proper car was a powder-blue Toyota Tazz, I had it for 5 years
28. I am an aunt to 2 beautiful little nieces, from my only sibling, my brother
29. I am not a morning person and can’t wake up until my morning shower/first coffee/first breath of fresh air from outside
30. I used to have a really tight, pert, curvy ass, but now, I have literally worked my butt off
31. I make a mean roast dinner
32. I love being in love, romance, the softer side of life and smooth jazz

Happy Monday y'all, oh and I passed my previous set of exams!

Drought

It has been a very long time since I have fallen in love. The sweet surrender of the heart seems like centuries ago in my life.

A friend of mine once said that people only have so many chances of falling in love, and once you’ve used up your particular ration, it doesn’t happen again. Sounds a bit too cynical and simple to me. The only thing is, strangely enough, I haven’t really felt ‘in love’, since a certain point in my life, when at one stage I remember saying to myself that I don’t feel as if I’ll ever really experience that ‘in love’ feeling again. Self-fulfilling prophesy?

I think the answer may be more rational though. There are certain factors missing in my life right now that prevent me from falling in love. Not the least of which, is not being in proximity of like-minded, compatible men with whom I have more chance of discovering mutual chemistry.

Also, having more responsibilities and troubles in my life right now, and let’s face it, just being mature, often prevents me from truly letting go and being in touch with my feelings.

Another scary thought, some of the few times I have discovered real chemistry, have been when I was rather chemically-altered myself, which never happens anymore and now I am left questioning, was it really me, back then, falling in love?

Astrology offers an answer: once every 12 years, and a few more minor incidents in between. Now if this is the case, then I have been between the in-between incidents for a long time.

Social structures have so much to do with chemistry too. I can honestly say that I am usually attracted to guys who have shy smiles and soft voices, and a bit of a quiet intellectuality about them. Now that’s pretty rare in my current neck of the woods.

These guys used to be called SNAGS (sensitive new age guys) in the nineties but seem to have died out now (along with the dried tomato and chicken a la king).

They’re the kind of guy that would agree to go out for coffee and listen to your troubles, rather than drinks and premature too-drunk-to-realise bonking. They would visit you if you were ill (with chicken soup!) and remember your special occasions. And if you weren’t originally that interested in them (physically), they would be your friend in the hope that one day things will change.

Now, chemistry + a SNAG would certainly be the perfect match for me.

But unfortunately, the chances of that happening here and now are pretty much zilch.

What is a girl to do?

Valentine's days past

When I was in my early twenties I used to wish that someone special would send me flowers or cards or take me out to dinner at valentines. I didn’t want to pre-empt anything so as not to ruin a surprise. My love interests were always on that border of not quite committing to a relationship and therefore not quite comfortable about celebrating a day like this with me.
Sometimes I thought that they were all just pretending to have better plans and ended up lonely.

The few valentines days that stood out were both impromptu. A Sunday lunch with an old friend who was also dateless (he bought me a rose, which was the sweetest thing in those days) and we pretended that we were a couple for the day to keep everyone guessing. Turns out, years later, after our friendship based only on meeting up about 4 times a year for a movie and coffee, he hinted at a marriage proposal and I stopped meeting up with him for good.

The other really nice Valentine’s happened when I was not expecting anyone at all. I had made myself a singleton dinner (potato bake) and was going to resort to watching TV and drinking a bottle of red by myself when a guy I had just started sort of dating (and whose relationship with his current girlfriend, who lived on his property, was still being resolved) popped by. We had the loveliest time and he didn’t once mention valentines. We ate out of the casserole dish, drank the bottle, laughed, joked and had some serious conversation. It was so special and real and I was equally confused especially when he said goodbye. He had created, for me, one of the most perfect goodnight kiss moments and then turned around and walked away without doing it.

The story with him is that I found out he was gay soon after (although he, himself, may still be in the closet). This, explained a whole bunch of things...not worth mentioning right now.

Valentine’s within dysfunctional relationships, to me, feels more of a waste than a disappointment. Disappointment is: dashed expectations. But when your partner buys you flowers, cards and takes you out to dinner (which is all you ever wanted years ago), and there is no spark, it’s like doing an obligatory duty. You appreciate it, you don’t enjoy it.

And you realise you would much rather (actually) have earth-shattering, mind-numbing, heart-thumping Luurrrvvve, than all the valentine’s surprises in the world.

The message on yesterday’s blog was not for FW. Bless.

You are always with me

To the only person in the world that made my heart flutter, sing and be constantly alive.

Wherever you are, you will always be with me.

Thank you for giving me the gift of knowing that no matter what happens in my life, I have experienced true love, a love that transcends time. It fuels me everyday, to go on, to be me, to make you proud.

xxx

No. 92 rings my bell...

Sometimes, not often, just sometimes, I have a day that makes me feel like this place isn't so bad after all. Today was one of those days.

I had a dental appointment that proceeded flawlessly for a change, on time, no waiting, good clean-up, twenty minutes and out the door. The dentist is on the high street about a 3 minute drive down the road, so it was really convenient.

Also had a doctor's appointment which is a more convenient 3 minute walk up the complex and it has a pharmacy attached. Another trouble-free appointment, my doc actually listened to me for a change and chatted a bit, and so now I happily realise that I need physio on my right knee, and possibly acupunture, and all of this is just a 5 minute drive down the road. Oh and it seems as if my testosterone levels are too high. Not surpised really, considering my 'partner' is such a twat.

Anyway so, our neighbour from no. 92 rang our doorbell today, not the woman that spies on us but rather her 'boyfriend', or so I suspect. He wanted to speak to my 'husband' and I thought it was to do with opening the electricity meter box again so I promply called FW and left them outside the door talking.

Turns out he wanted to discuss the royal f.u. that our incompetant management company has caused and FW of course gave him exactly the wrong information. So 10 minutes later FW asked me to do some damage control and re-advise him.

I felt like a right idiot, I tell you - explaining (in a nice way) that actually as much as FW pretends as if he owns the flat, I do. I think it came out as: 'Hi, I own the flat you were just at and FW just asked me to clarify some things with you as he seems to have the wrong information.'

The poor kid, he looked young, sort of around 26 and he was so nervous talkng to me that his hands were shaking along with his voice and he seemed as if he was trying to create a good impression. Bless, bless. I did what I could. Lovely guy. Not bad looking actually...and I could hear his girlfriend shifting behind their door, listening...what is a neighbour to say about that in these circumstances?

Everything is becoming 'Instant'

Everything has become ‘Instant’ these days, and I’m not just spinning the proverbial coffee metaphor here.

Take Internet Dating for example, you upload a profile, do a search based on what you would like to see in a person, shortlist the ones you prefer, send them a quick note and it could be a matter of days before your first date! And if you are lucky enough to line the dates up for a few months, you’re bound to find someone you have some chemistry with.

This sort of condensed timing could normally take people years to reach the same result.

But of course it’s not that simple, there are always limitations to the ‘instant’. The first being that pictures hide chemistry, so you may think you’ve shortlisted the best, but you could have excluded people you would like had you met them in person, and you lessen your choices. The mere act of short listing means you’re already judging a book by its cover. After a while you realise you keep choosing the same kind of guy and it doesn’t work, and your dating life starts getting a cheap coffee after-taste, unless of course all you want is a few no-strings-attached dates pretty quickly.

And then there’s online shopping, one click ordering makes it literally a touch of a button to your selection and your order is paid for and delivered. But try returning goods that look a whole lot different from the pictures and it’s certainly not a single-clicker.

The same goes for online job and home searches, new-restaurant bookings and fast food deliveries.

In the world of virtual purchases, is it true that all we really need, is a photo and some information, to make a good decision?

And if we make our choices this way, are we deciding to choose speed and efficiency over the kind of quality and attachment that comes from experiencing something beforehand and the certainty that it is what you want?

Facebook - The Emotional Rollercoaster Ride

When I hooked up to Facebook last year it was initially to view my colleagues pictures, but I needed to create a profile. Thereafter I was exposed to the facebook phenomenon.

The Good

My ex E found me one week later, I had been trying for years to contact him but we seemed to have lost each other, as it turns out he was searching for me too. That was like a present from the universe for me. We emailed non-stop for weeks, I was so happy to be in contact with him again.

Today I found my old housemate and very good friend EV and another friend O on the site. EV and I go back to the days of my ex P, that I mentioned on yesterday's blog. I found out from her that P is now married! (Begin emotional closure process now...). Yesterday while reminscing i realised that I haven't had a friend like EV for a long time. We lived together. We both partied with P. She used to arrive at my bedroom on a Saturday morning with tea and questions about the socials of the night before and we would exchange stories and then go out shopping and lunching until the next party. She was like family, and we had this banter and familiar innuendo that started all over again in the emails today. Turns out she has been living in Switzerland the last 5 years and I had no idea. We are planning to hook up for a good few nights on the town soon.

I have also contacted a few more friends on the site that are invaluable in my life.

The Bad

Facebook stress, aka the friend quota issue. It seems like the aim of facebookers is to see who has the most friends on Facebook. You may start out innocently (as I did) thinking well, I don't really want to reconnect with my old high school friends that I can clearly see are on Facebook, but who at this stage of my life do not need to know all the details about me as yet. It is a social dilemma. I'm not ready for it. It's like having a reunion imposed on you immediately with no time to prepare.

As for current friends, as I am in a different country and network far less than before, as well as being unemployed and in my thirties, the chances of my having a lot of current friends (who are on facebook) are pretty slim, hence the small accurate number of my friends who I am actually in regular contact with. I believe I am being more honest because I know well over a 100 people on the site, I just don't want to befriend them right now. However everyone has jumped onto the friend wagon and anyone who has few friends suddenly looks a bit strange.

Second stress in the form of contacting old friends: I took the plunge this morning, had not slept all night researching and writing and in my insomniac state decided what the hell, I emailed a whole bunch of people I knew. Turns out only the ones I thought would reply have so far, and one other, a guy I dated in 2000, who was happy to send me a few emails today and then suddenly went all wierd and stopped, and I have a funny feeling he won't be contacting me anymore. All of this is rather embarrassing. It's really scary emailing people you haven't heard of in ages and then being ignored, because now they not only know you know they are there but they don't want to know you as well.

And the truth is, it could just be that they haven't checked their profile yet or something but you feel stupid anyway.

I'm not sure how this is going to pan out, but I have resolved to try to contact as many people as I know and that way at least I'll know who not to contact for future reference.

Technology stress, who would have thought...?

Sweet Nostalgia

When I was 21, and living with my ex P, the aim of my life was fun, fun, fun. And P did a lot to keep that going. I remember the continuous kid games and dares, and the spontaneous, non-stop self entertainment. We drove out in his side-less, roofless, 4-by-4’s, barefoot and caused a stir on the streets. We had raucous parties, karaoke sessions and even went flying in his rented choppers. I was constantly excited and we were always laughing.

We played games with each other, got up to no good on MIRC chat line (remember that?) , called each other ‘My Lord’ and ‘My Lady’, spent sunny afternoons lazing at the pool and evenings of skinny dipping. There were loads of friends and drunken laughs and plenty of sunshine and international visitors and German culture - an incredible amount of fun, it never stopped. It was as if we were in competition to see who could have the most fun and we certainly got on with it.

Right now I feel like I have put on an old mask of those days and realise that excitement is an attitude. I used to put in on in the morning and keep it going. I would have a day off sometimes every now and then to recover.

I wish I had those days back, my mind tells me that they belong to a younger age and that I would look like mutton dressed as lamb if I tried them on now but I don’t want to believe it.

I remember a conversation we had while splashing around in the pool, one late Sunday afternoon. There was a song playing on the music station in the lounge, loud enough for us to hear it from outside, and I was really enjoying it. We were talking about our compatibility and P said that we were so close to each other, because after all, I was the only one who knew that he sat on the loo when he pee’d. We laughed, then he added contrastingly, ‘but you’re so young you probably enjoy this song that’s playing.’ I was shaken out of my blissful reverie.

I can still feel the full impact of that moment, the smell of the chlorine in the pool, the warmth of the sun on my skin, the music lulling me, his friendliness creating a safety cocoon, and then the truth, stinging, when I least expected it.

It’s been 10 years since then, how time flies.

The song was playing in my mind today when the sun was as strong outside as it was back then, I had to immediately download it and listen to it, for old time’s sake. I must admit, it sounded fake, youthful and boring and I suddenly got it, I have grown up.

I resisted the urge to call him up and say, ’hey, remember that song you said I enjoyed because I was so young?...well I just heard it again and it’s crap, wanna meet up for some coffee?’

But of course I can’t because he is on the other side of the world, back home, and I am here. The last I heard of him was that he was engaged and proudly raising his fiancée’s daughter. He moved on, and so have I in many ways.

But I know that he’ll always recognise my voice on the phone, even if I try to fake it. It’s one of the things we share P and I, recognising each other’s voices and the sweet nostalgia of our connection on a level only we know...

And the song? ‘Your Woman’ by White Town, how ironically appropriate.

Expectations

Expectations: I normally set myself up for very high ones on my birthday and am equally disappointed when they don't happen.

This year I took the road less taken, for me. I said no flowers, no cards, no fancy dinners out, no stress, all I want is to wake up and do whatever it is I want for the day. It worked - perfectly.

I read the morning papers over coffee and croissants, I watched a couple of DVD's, I took a walk out in the beautiful sunshine, I did a bit of shopping, had a lovely roast dinner at home and listened to 4 and a half hours of my favourite music in the background. It was blissful.

And I got more texts, phonecalls and emails from my friends than I would normally get. And despite my requests, still got flowers from FW and some cards, and I was happy.

9 Feb - It's about time!

I left my country, I emigrated to new pastures, I travelled the world, I worked and lived in one of the most internationally successful cities, I’ve seen many dreams come true, I’ve changed and grown, I’ve found a new life and I’ve hit rock bottom.

And in this enormous change, I have lost myself.

Today I am 32. It’s an age I am afraid of. It places me in an age group I am still not used to. It smells like confusion and unhappiness. It has an edge of urgency. It holds the memories of the passion that keeps my hopes and dreams alive. It drives me to go on and achieve, to fulfil my destiny. It tells me over and over again that life... is too short.

My biggest birthday wish this year, is to find myself again.


************************


My most sentimental and meaningful piece of jewellery is a watch I bought in 1999. It means so much to me because back then I was lonely and sad, and for the first time in my life, I had enough money to spoil myself and buy jewellery. I bought three watches at a sale and they were all very special to me. I gave one to M and one to G and have worn the other ever since.

About a year ago, when my life was falling apart, the batteries on my watch stopped working and I just didn’t get around to replacing them and so I got used to being without a watch. It was disorientating at first, until eventually I gave in to the chaos that dominated my life, and I stopped watching.

Just recently, after trying to put my life together again, I decided, as an act of getting back on track that I would replace the batteries and start using the watch again, but alas I couldn’t find it anywhere.

Right now, in London, England, it is an hour and a minute into the 9th February 2008, my birthday. I have reached for my old handbag in my bedside drawer to get some lip balm out, but the bag slipped, caused a huge noise and some of the contents fell out, and among them was my watch!

I take this as a sign- that it’s about time I started fulfilling my destiny.

Happy Birthday to me.

Feeling old

This morning when I left the building, a man was trying to get in. He apologised for being in my way when I opened the door, I told him it wasn’t a problem. Then he said, ‘you smell beautiful’. I said, ‘excuse me?’ and he said ‘you smell gorgeous’. I was so embarrassed I said ‘thank you’ without looking at him and hurried off to the car.

On my way to the station I thought about that compliment. This morning I made a little bit of a fuss about myself, my make-up, my outfit, I wanted to feel good. I was getting my groove back. I sprayed perfume all over myself, my hair, my clothes, like I used to when I was 21. And someone noticed me.

I was smiling on the inside, when I thought that when I was younger, I would have had the courage to look him in the eye, smile and say thank you. And then I realised that when I was younger I would have probably not given any attention to anything short of something like, ‘Mmm...I love your scent...smells like... jasmine in the spring...a beautiful scent to go along with a beautiful woman...’

And I had to ask myself: In my downward demise, have I created a self-fulfilling prophesy of being a ‘nobody’?

And, when did I drop my standards and why?

Today I met K for a quick lunch. I had to get up early and arrange so much just to arrive at Liverpool Street and walk a mile and meet her. I was looking forward to it, but it left me flat and uncomfortable. K opened up about her relationship with her boyfriend and I realised that I was actually having it easy in life compared to her. I can only imagine I said the wrong things as I got no response to the email I sent her afterwards, explaining that I may have been cold but want to help and become closer. There was also a moment where I wasn’t sure if she was asking for money.

On the way back I realised that my knee was acting up again, and my feet were raw with pain from my heels. I hobbled back into the flat and as I dropped onto my bed to get my heels off, I realised that I felt really old. Old and tired, like my mind needed a permanent holiday and my body was showing signs of over-use. And then I remembered again, that in a few hours time I will be a year older.

Johannesburg - a fine wine

Johannesburg - a unique blend of various European, matured in fine African, with American influences, and hints of passion, warmth, electricity and excitement, but does it compliment British meat?

Today I was reminded of that rare moment when you feel free, sophisticated and beautiful somewhere, in a foreign country, and then just with one witty statement, your insecurities rise to the surface and you realise that you do not belong completely, and that people see you as different. You can choose to embrace this and work it and re-assert your confidence and power or, to fall into the shame of your insecurity.

When you put down roots in a city, it is like beginning a love affair. It’s deep, raw and messy, it’s troublesome and fulfilling. You lose yourself in it. You become it. It compliments you, it completes you. It blesses you with a lifetime of memories to savour. It envelopes you with familiarity. It awakens that giddy desire to love and be loved.

And if you decide to move on before you end your love affair, you will have to deal with a broken heart and a rebound new-city relationship.

You will need closure, or you will keep running back, yearning, wondering what could have been.

I have not had my closure of Johannesburg yet.

Where has romance gone?

The epitome of gorgeousness, Chris Noth aka Mr Big of SATC (and Law & Order) fame



There is nothing more romantic than the soft, longing gaze of someone who is in love with you when his eyes can’t hide it, and no matter what he does everything seems coloured by a sweet sensitivity, and it touches your heart.



These days I only seem to see this on TV...

Rip-offs beware, and people I hate

I’m having one of those days. I hate the world. I hate all my ex-boyfriends who were jerks. I cannot believe I put up with them. I hate my dysfunctional parents who seem more and more selfish by the day. I especially hate the following people:

· The thieving twats at what used to be YDP, who overcharged me by thousands when I used them to arrange my move here.

· The hair salon called Eclipse who arrange ‘marketeers’ standing on street corners bullshitting people that for £50 you will get discounted haircuts, Indian head massages, unlimited free wash and blows, free hair colouring and various other add-ons, but when you take the bait, they find an excuse for all of the above plus, and how it doesn’t actually relate to you, for example the hair colouring is a blond bleach only, so anyone not wanting blond highlights in their hair cannot choose another colour. In was all a total rip-off. They didn’t even offer me a cup of coffee - they said the coffee machine was broken! And they insulted my country as I walked out the door!

· The beautician at Tower hair (close to Tower Gate station) who charges £45 for apparently some wonder face peel straight off Harley street that does wonders for your face and ends up putting a small smear of what can only be described as cheap mask on your face, for 10 minutes, and calls it a facial. Someone should expose this woman.

· My optometrists for verbally agreeing to deliver a set of contact lenses every quarter for an agreed price and then, after setting up the debit order, denying that it was meant to be per quarter, but rather bi-annually!!!

· Powergen, for fooling you into thinking that everything is okay and then hitting you with an overpriced electricity bill.

· The management company CPM that deals with our estate, for charging a whopping £44k a year to mess up our financial contributions and get us all in hot water, on account of pure incompetence

I know I am pms-ed out, but it’s times like these when I am angry enough to actually say it out loud, (or at least blog it).

Buying Property? Just rent instead!

If I could ever give anyone advice, who is an immigrant in another country without permanent residence as yet, especially under changing economic environments, it would simply be this. Do not buy property. Especially, in the UK. Let me give you a sample of what I have experienced in the last two years of my supposedly glorious apartment-owning life.

An incorrectly wired boiler (read geyser), meaning that I had to live without hot water for a few days before the problem was resolved, and yes it was winter.

An incorrectly wired bedroom telephone link, corrected ‘courtesy’ of a well known British Telephone company, whose engineer originally suggested that he would sort the problem out as a ‘courtesy’ at no cost, but as it turns out he was expecting me to reciprocate with another courtesy (of the sexual variety) and when I didn’t quite offer the goods, I received the enormous bill, now un-attestable as my two year new-apartment-building insurance time-period has lapsed.

An incorrectly wired electricity meter, charging me the elevated day rate for electricity, which should have cost me the lesser stored heat rate. I spent 6 months enquiring why I didn’t receive any bills and was given various excuses, the main one being an incredibly large backlog. So 18 months later I get charged the over-priced bill which had I received sooner, I would have queried and sorted out the over-priced problem. Now it turns out that the responsibility is with the builder, and for which I had to calculate (without much information) what figure I should be receiving as a refund, myself! This matter is still not resolved two years later.

The management company that is handling the complex, returned some accounts a good few months too late and were in the process of being kicked off the companies register!! They are also so incompetent that they double paid an insurance premium and sent us the bill in advance! These are just a few things I care to point out on their incompetence.

To make matters more hilarious, two residents (roughly 10 years younger than me!), decided to insert themselves as new directors and appointed a new management company without any formal approval (which is illegal) and managed to get this new management company to negotiate a refund from the overpaid insurance, which they actually received (!!) before the management company was even officially elected.

And here I am, trying to sell the place in the current declining house-price market.

Sunny weather for me any day...

Symptoms of cheating

Today I had a fabulous roast turkey dinner which FW cooked (after doing all the shopping), then he washed up and tidied the lounge. I offered to help but he refused. I had to ask a few times if he was feeling alright, especially as he had even switched the TV off at one point while being on the main computer (we are trying to keep the electricity bill and the noise levels down). I thought maybe he wanted to keep the flat tidy after my mammoth attempts this week of re-arranging the place and major spring cleaning, sans help.

And then he did something that he would never dare do, sober.

This requires some pre-information. FW is always secretly internet-dating. I don’t know if he actually goes on dates with the women but he certainly is in contact with them. When I first discovered this (and we were a couple), he made a huge attempt to ‘stop’ and as proof allowed me access to his passwords for cell phone itemised bills, email and computer log-on. But around November last year, after I noticed that he was keeping his cell phone very discreetly away from me, I also noticed that he had changed passwords to all of the previously accessible areas. And to confirm any doubtful suspicions, he got really drunk around Christmas and starting msn-ing off the computer, and I saw it.

Well, we are now very much, not a couple, and well on our way to eventually separating, as soon as we resolve the apartment-situation (this is so ridiculously marriage-like).

But today after making yet another statement that showed that he was assuming that we would get back together again, he msn-ed while he thought I was watching a DVD on my laptop, and even though he tried to be discreet about it, I realised that he has no intentions of ever having a real relationship with me, which as we all know is a huge relief as I can’t wait to move on.

I’m starting to see FW through the tinted lenses of my ex-boyfriend (the womaniser). My ex had unexplained disappearances motivated by simple duties like rushing off to the shop to get milk (and later when I’d check I’d realise we had enough to last a week anyway), the garbage got taken out sometimes up to twice a day, and most ridiculous, he feigned a bladder problem in restaurants, all so that he could disappear and make secret calls and texts to other women. He even once admitted to being able to text on his cell under the table- without looking (which explained more than the strange texts I sometimes got from him).

FW goes out to do the shopping, alone, early on weekend mornings, while I am still asleep: he always needs at least fuel or newspapers. The garbage gets taken out a lot more regularly, coupled with the changed passwords...you see where I’m going.

It's just a matter of time.

Neighbours with no lives!

I have a strange complaint. My neighbour (and I now know it is a woman from no. 93) listens outside our door quite frequently as a form of entertainment. I would really like to barge over there sometime and say: ‘get a f*"king life will you!’, but of course they would deny it.

I have suspected this for a year. My sense of privacy in my flat has decreased and it is more than a tad uncomfortable. I am now very quiet when in close proximity of the hallway. I close the lounge door all the time. I realise why this place was so well priced now that it is so obvious that the flats are not very sound proof (as confirmed by my other neighbour, in her potential pursuit of justice against the guy above her who is overly noisy and keeps them awake). And a few days ago I realised that my suspicions were true.

I was doing yoga, alone in the bedroom and of course breathing very heavily and I, as usual, heard someone out there, but for the sake of my sanity (and at this stage unproved suspicion, hence the denial that followed), I ignored it and continued. Then I heard a male voice saying: ‘Are you listening at their door again?’ and a women giggled and said ‘yes!’ They left before I could run out screaming profanities.

You may think I’m over reacting to this but the reason it bothers me so much is that this happens about 12 times a week (of which I am aware) and most often straight after I have had an argument/stiff conversation/audible conversation with FW that I would not like to share with my neighbours, or straight after I have used the bathroom (which is right next to the front door and I don’t bother closing the door when I am alone, although I have started doing this now).

Surely I have the right to my privacy behind closed doors? I can’t believe that anyone has so much time and interest in continuing such pathetic behaviour.

Anyway...

Cynicism: when did I start accepting that being bluntly honest was better than making people feel good about themselves? Happy friendships are surely about people ‘clicking’, imitating one another, being comfortable to each other, not pointing out the obvious flaws in every situation. I need a kick up the rear sometimes. No wonder.

And also...

Two things: First, you can learn so much from the movies. Second, I feel like I need to regress 10 years to get my life back, because it seems like I was more mature back then. (And thinner)

Compatablility and random ramblings

I was thinking today about why FW and I are so horribly incompatable and I realised a few things about myself.

I am from the kind of people who don’t argue because they want to raise someone’s blood pressure for personal pleasure (and I don’t mean of the sexual variety either), but rather who debate intelligently by understanding that some people cannot always agree with you and a compromise needs to be made sometime, without interrupting, negating ideas or being unfoundedly defensive.

I am from the kind of people who question and analyse and hold back until I know the absolute truth about something (or at least have a good idea of what the facts are) before shooting my mouth of to someone (not you ofcourse).

I am from the kind of people who don’t ask what someone else’s religion is when we are dating and don’t proceed to impose my religion (or lack thereof) onto them, I keep a lot of things to myself or at least discuss them with my closer friends instead and I try to create a good impression by supporting a ‘together’ image of myself and keeping my emotions to myself when I can prevent a scene, but who also realises the need to expose bad service or unfair treatment where it is not warranted.

This makes me irrevocably, incompatible with those of the opposite value system and ofcourse with FW. Problem is, where do I find people like myself?

It is cold, miserable, windy and rainy today and tomorrow it will snow. And someone just called (number withheld) and put the phone down as soon as I answered and FW is denying any knowledge of the person.

What will it take to get a bit of sunshine around here?

I realise now that appearances make all the difference. Good looks, thin angular faces that show clear expression and emotion, loud voices that are very clear, the kind of confidence/arrogance that goes along with either being an attention-seeker or not giving a damn that everyone else can actually hear you, in short everything I currently do not have is basically what attracts people to you.

The obvious, is that ...hang on a sec....the sun is actually coming out?!!!!!! Yippee, my prayers have been answered the sun is shining on us mortals, sending us rays of warmth and missing solace, thank you...anyway, back to the obvious, if you’re loud and visible, yes people can notice you, but is it just the noticing that makes them attracted to you or is the fact that you are enticingly confident that makes them feel more comfortable i.e. that you will be less hard work to handle?

Just thinking out a loud there, surely this is old-hat for most of you.

Pink has arrived

Pink has made a return to my life. Correction, it’s not really a return, rather an appearance. It’s as if I need to re-live my childhood again, but this time in the more acceptable girly way which was never so when I was younger, being very much the tomboy. Suddenly all pink things I own (which are very few) have coincidentally revealed themselves - the low-priced pillow cases I bought when I first arrived in London (priced on account of color), pink scrawled t-shirts, and a new early birthday present which came wrapped in the most gorgeous black and pink box with little embossed dots.

Am I turning girly at this age? Is this a sign that I need to get back in touch with my feminine side to get my life back? Would be worth an experiment, after all I am a bit ‘last year’ at the moment. I’ll let you know.

A flash of happiness

Last night I was happy, unusually happy, like a manic-depressive happy - so blissful in fact that the thought of posting an entry for this blog didn't even enter my mind. Not that I am an everyday blogger, as you may have noticed but I was trying there for a short while. A little.

So the bizarre happiness, hey I'm not complaining at all. It was a sweet respite from the otherwise negative thought patterns that motivate me to write. How sad am I?

Cut my hair today, it feels like a change but not that drastic that it makes me feel 'better'.

My days are not as glamourous and dramatic as they once were. I do have time on my hands now but I'd much rather not. Have started to take little herbal sleeping pills to get my sleep patterns normalised. I currently fall asleep at 4 in the morning and wake up at 12 noon. It's a real pain in the arse and I cant seem to get back in sync.

In fact I think the little pills are starting to work now.

Laters

Dalit People in India

http://www.washingtonpost.com/wp-dyn/content/article/2007/06/20/AR2007062002535.html

Dalit people in India and the way they are treated for being considered as a lower caste, was also in a documentary today on the BBC. Shocking, torturous, inhumane. The words don't even do justice to describe it. Feeling really down and sad about this, and helpless, what could I possibly do to help?

The legacy of colonialism is evident both in India and in the beginnings of apartheid, and the feeling remains the same.

Heart breaking, and still no justice.

Anna - Gunnar Madsen

Just watched an old episode of Sex and the City – ‘La Douleur Exquise’ which shows Carrie saying goodbye to Big as he heads of for Paris. Yes, I do have a really girly SATC-watching side and no I don’t want to hear the comments about it. The thing is, I had a relationship exactly like that – ‘The exquisite pain’, and it turned out so intensely sad, so maybe one day I’ll fill you in.

They played Gunnar Madsen’s, ‘ Anna’ towards the end. Such a beautiful piece it is.

Aaahhh...

Still right here, treading water

Almost the end of January and I’ve hardly done anything substantial this year. I hear me urging myself, inwardly, to get on with it. I have so much to do: a flat to sell, a qualification to complete, a new place to find if I do sell my flat, administrative loose ends growing urgent by the day, a physical makeover, finding a way out of this social and sabbatical-gone-wrong mess, and most of all choosing a path and walking away from this crossroad.

I don’t know how I got to this exact place; this relationship disaster, this bizarre shelter away from home, this financial insecurity. And I’m past the psycho stress of it all too. There was a time when being unemployed for a month would scare the bejesus out of me, at least into succumbing to a lowly, badly-paid job in the interim. Now I want to run from anything that confines or restricts me in the smallest way.

The smell of Freedom is wafting past my nostrils and I want a bigger whiff of it. I want to breathe it in and let it permeate me to the point of being lost in its intoxication. I want to break out of this cage and run freely to a life of deeper joys.

(That last sentence sounds so...adjectively OTT and out of place...but true though)

Anyway... so a recession looms. Today is being called Black Monday in London, unless tomorrow morning’s activity puts the market back to yesterday’s position. How could this affect my future? Mmm...

Goodbye NL.

Today while stumbling through some websites, I discovered the shocking news that an old colleague friend of mine, a beautiful, sweet and caring person, was in Thailand on 26 December 2004 and passed away in the tsunami.

I can’t begin to tell you how I feel. She was typically that kind of person that makes the statement ‘only the good die young’ true.

My mind ran through so many sentimental memories of what a kind and non-judgemental person she was. Her affinity for cats and Harry Potter, her simplicity, her genuinely caring attitude, her ignorance of how beautiful she was – I realise what a truly beautiful person she was, inside and out.

I even remember one moment of silliness, when we stripped down to our underwear and went swimming in a pool at a sports ranch that our company was having a Christmas party at. We thought no one else saw us but discovered the following week that one of the tech guys was up on the roof above the pool, capturing the pool area and caught us on camera! They later edited out that scene.

NL, you were truly a gemstone, what a loss. Thanks for the good memories of your beautiful personality.

New York, New York

New York is in my blood. It has been since I was old enough to understand that it was a city in another country - at a time when TV was the only medium to experience it by. It fascinated me beyond anything else that forced American culture into our sheltered, southern world.

My first virginal memory of the place, was a scene in a TV show. Can't remember the name but it was typically ‘eighties’. It had a bright-lights-big-city backdrop and I can just about manage a memory of a thirty-something guy coming out of a tenement block, ostensibly to have a cigarette, but also to get out. He holds a rose, growing out of a pot near a front door, and you hear the sound of Sinatra’s ‘Moonlight Serenade’.

Sounds cheesy I know, but I that scene just created a paradigm in my mind, far beyond just the sights and sounds of one incident. It remained forever in me. I started crazily piecing together scenes from TV, bits of a puzzle, trying to get a flavour of the city. I imagined the lives of the working class to be the most intense. I could see the richness in their family and friendship bonds, in their conversations and their desires. Just the way they lived life, so passionate and energetic, so savoured, such furious liveliness, it stirred me. The sound of that life, its taste, its magnetism, it's a mystery that still holds me today: the belief that the inspiration of your true dreams never end.

Why do men still prefer (youthful) beauty over (slightly) older and wiser?

Still stuck on the twenties issue...

Why is it that the climax of my life so far, i.e. being 21, was characterised by being insecure, innocent and immature, yet also allowing me to be sexy, fun, popular, wanted and hugely fulfilled?

I am beginning to accept that good looks and ignorance are what makes the world go round. Not just go round, but words like power and wealth come to mind. Just look at Tom Cruise for example. Do you see what I mean?

Here I am, ten years down the road from 21, all the wiser and so pro-damn-foundly more experienced than my happy air-head days past. I exercise more than I have ever done, I’m not too bad looking for my age (some still think I am in my early twenties), I can hold my own in any conversation (for that matter debate on just about any subject), I actually have my own opinions now and don’t feel the need to be clingy or helped anymore. Just when I thought I've finally got to the stage where I can stand on my own feet and face the world, I realise that I am not needy and youthfully attractive enough to attract a good man?? (The kind of man I attracted in my early twenties: thirty-something, slim, toned, funny, charming, well-mannered, sociable, happy, fun...)

Can somebody tell me Why is this???

Transition from 20's to 30's

Perhaps it's time to stop reaching your goals and strive for a purpose in life instead, a life of meaning and significance.

This piece of guidance I have gleaned from a psychologies magazine I recently read.

The transition from your twenties to your thirties is a real mind screw. It creeps up on you very slowly. One day you look up and suddenly you have as they say: 'a wife and 2 kids, how did they get there? You don't know'.

I don't have a wife and 2 kids, firstly because I am a woman and secondly the slow creep up has been ever so slightly noticeable.

I remember at 26, someone I met at a really memorable social party said of me that I didn't come across as a 26 year old, that I had the 'lack of insecurity' of someone in their thirties, and I made a mental note.

Yes now I can do things, feel things, ignore things and be myself with a greater sense of understanding rather than acceptance, like I did in my twenties, but I can't remember when I changed.

Things I do now that I would never do in my twenties:

have lunch on my own in an expensive restaurant
make an effort to call that guy back instead of playing by the rules
dress for comfort rather than fashion
take far less risks that would affect my safety
laugh off very young guys hitting on me
advise people younger than me
pick up heavy things
not over-indulge in anything intoxicating
go out without make-up
leave the house for milk without first taking a shower on a Sunday morning
buy property
save money
feel broody when around babies
actually contemplate having a child
try to make a relationship work instead of running away
feel envious of young, beautiful twenty-somethings
consider dating a guy that might not 'up' my shares on the social exchange
desperately working on my changing body shape
diet
exercise
ignoring kids behaving badly in public
not going to clubs anymore because they make me feel old
not having any worthwhile goals and feeling stagnant

I seem to like lists as you may have noticed. But really this behaviour crept up on me and I am wondering if this is normal.

So my dilemma right now, is a confusion of where to go, what to do, what do I really want in life, how do I get there, will this make me happy?

And none of the answers leave me satisfied or clear as to what to do next. So I want a life of purpose, but do i really know what purpose and how do I change things so that I can fulfil that purpose an still survive, and most of all will it bring me happiness?

Things I miss about home

sunshine
space
clean air
smiles on people's faces
beautful nature
roads that are not so congested
people that actually listen to you
respect
braais
good-looking men
pools
rosebank flea market
mr price
sundowners
short drives
boerewors
sandton city
northcliff hill
melville
downtown
wits
fresh food
value for money
sunday mornings when the city sleeps
breeze soap
spray and cook
the accents
african music
the trendy clubs and bars
dinner parties
friendly people
conversations with strangers
the sense of humor
analytical conversations about nothing
sunday morning newspapers and breakfasts
sunday afternoon naps and dvd's with kfc
nando's, ocean basket and steak houses
maids
having your petrol filled and purchased for you
good service
car washes
beauty salons
lounging at the pool
radio stations
jasmine at the start of summer
jacaranda trees
the tropical plants and flowers
efficiency
convenience
large open spaces
the joburg skyline
ponte
beautiful houses
big gardens
arty folk
big concerts
thinner people
energy
excitement
blue skies
parkhurst
greenside

Domestic Violence

Emotional and verbal abuse from a partner is classed as psychological domestic abuse and is a crime. If the following signs apply to you, please google domestic violence and find the nearest women's shelter/shelter to help you. In the UK you can try www.womensaid.org.uk or call (UK freephone) 0808 2000 247

Does your partner:

ignore your feelings?
disrespect you?
ridicule or insult you then tell you its a joke, or that you have no sense of humor?
ridicule your beliefs, religion, race, heritage or class?
withhold approval, appreciation or affection?
give you the silent treatment?
walk away without answering you?
criticize you, call you names, yell at you?
humiliate you privately or in public?
roll his or her eyes when you talk?
give you a hard time about socializing with your friends or family?
make you socialize (and keep up appearances) even when you don't feel well?
seem to make sure that what you really want is exactly what you won't get?
tell you you are too sensitive?
hurt you especially when you are down?
seem energized by fighting, while fighting exhausts you?
have unpredictable mood swings, alternating from good to bad for no apparent reason?
present a wonderful face to the world and is well liked by outsiders?
"twist" your words, somehow turning what you said against you?
try to control decisions, money, even the way you style your hair or wear your clothes?
complain about how badly you treat him or her?
threaten to leave, or threaten to throw you out?
say things that make you feel good, but do things that make you feel bad?
ever left you stranded?
ever threaten to hurt you or your family?
ever hit or pushed you, even "accidentally"?
seem to stir up trouble just when you seem to be getting closer to each other?
abuse something you love: a pet, a child, an object?
compliment you enough to keep you happy, yet criticize you enough to keep you insecure?
promise to never do something hurtful again?
harass you about imagined affairs?
manipulate you with lies and contradictions?
destroy furniture, punch holes in walls, break appliances?
drive like a road-rage junkie?
act immature and selfish, yet accuse you of those behaviors?
question your every move and motive, somehow questioning your competence?
interrupt you; hear but not really listen?
make you feel like you can't win? damned if you do, damned if you don't?
use drugs and/or alcohol involved? are things worse then?
incite you to rage, which is "proof" that you are to blame?
try to convince you he or she is "right," while you are "wrong?"
frequently say things that are later denied or accuse you of misunderstanding?
treat you like a sex object, or as though sex should be provided on demand regardless of how you feel?

Your situation is critical if the following applies to you:

You express your opinions less and less freely.
You find yourself walking on eggshells, careful of when and how to say something.
You long for that softer, more vulnerable part of your partner to emerge.
You find yourself making excuses for your partner's behavior?
You feel emotionally unsafe.
You feel its somehow not OK to talk with others about your relationship.
You hope things will change...especially through your love and understanding.
You find yourself doubting your memory or sense of reality.
You doubt your own judgment.
You doubt your abilities.
You feel vulnerable and insecure.
You are becoming increasingly depressed.
You feel increasingly trapped and powerless.
You have been or are afraid of your partner.
Your partner has physically hurt you, even once.

If you feel your relationship may be verbally and emotionally abusive, talk to people you trust. Talk to clergy, call your local battered women's shelter, educate yourself, seek professional help. Do not allow verbal and emotional abuse to escalate to battery!

Christmas in London

Things that have happened in London over the Christmas period:

1) While on my way to the movies I had the misfortune of walking behind a typical ignorant mother. Her poor innocent 3(ish) year old was practically running behind trying to catch up as she walked increasing faster towards the main entrance. The little girl was crying about something and her mother ignored her completely. The mother then disappeared into the entrance which was not very visible with the amount of people around and so the little girl tried to run faster to catch up and tripped over a metal carpet border and fell right onto the foot of a woman going in.

The mother then turns around to the woman and says 'Just walk away then after kicking my child!' What an idiotic mother! I really did have to stop myself from causing a scene and ofcourse the poor kid didn't get any attention at all!

2)At the local supermarket. Two cockney-accented women, both in 4-by-4's stop alongside each other on one of the narrow parking lanes and are having a private conversation. No one else can pass and the traffic is starting to build up. I hoot and the one woman sticks her head out and yells, 'ok, can you just wait we are having a conversation!'

3)At the local supermarket inside. This is the usual scene, just a million times worse at Christmas.

These shoppers were just not raised to understand the very efficient concept of not blocking pathways, especially at supermarkets. They do not stop their trolleys at the sides of lanes but anywhere they please and usually without any indication. They will veer in front of you at any time and walk without looking in front of them and ofcourse bump into you, after which they will give you a dirty look as if it's your fault.

They arrive in families of 10-12, especially with young children that feel that they have the right to run around the supermarket and woe betide if any run into your trolley, you will be received with much worse than in 1) above. They do also have conversations in the middle of pathways and bang into you without any conscience or apology. They walk slowly in front of you. They reach across your trolley to get items they can reach from any other angle.

But most of all the checkout queue is the greatest frustration. The staff have conversations with shoppers instead of hurrying up the job. Most people feel no need whatsoever to be as quick as possible because of the queue waiting behind them. They will very carefully search all four bags for the right card, when all is packed, after they have been standing there doing nothing for the last 5 minutes. They will insist on inquiring about the discounts on the 2 coupons amounting to £1 that has to be dealt with by the senior supervisor who takes about 20 minutes to check that they are not allowed the discount after all, and this happens about 1/2 an hour before the store closes and the queue is growing behind.

And then you will be faced with the rich-husband wife who cannot park her husband's large car in the normal-size parking bay and must attempt to do this about 16 times before she realises that there are plenty of parking bays in the row behind..

4) Conversation with my flatmate/ex-boyfriend who will henceforth be known as the FW (I'm sure you will eventually see why)

FW: (after taking out the garbage which was way overdue) The bag split on me
J: Did it mess your trousers?
FW: No I didn't mess my trousers, I said the bag split on me!
J: Yes and did IT MESS UP YOUR TROUSERS?
FW: How can a bag splitting mess up your trousers?
J: Nevermind

Sadly, this is not all part of the silly season, it's consistent.