New Reality TV Show: Psychoanalyse My Handbag

I read an interesting article in an in-flight magazine while flying from Cape Town to Jozi yesterday. It made me think about how women would be perceived based on the contents of their handbag. I change handbags everyday to  match what I'm wearing. Today I'm wearing my large grey Guess tote, if that helps with your analysis.

1 x Blackberry Bold (aka Blacky Brown)

It’s my “don’t-forget-your-head-at-home” reminder cum personal assistant cum keeper-in-toucher-with-the-world tool, and I would be completely lost without it. Oh, that reminds me, I had best back it up before it crashes….again.

1 x Kindle 3

My new baby. I mean, toy, my new toy. I’ve downloaded two new books to it and have an entire list on my Amazon wish list just waiting to be bought! Please, feel free to send me as many books as gifts as you like, but not on birthdays, or Xmas. Send them just because you want to, really. I’m still working on a name for my Kindle. We’re only just getting acquainted.

1 x iPod

For when I feel like dancing in my head

1 x red snake skin makeup bag (with area code of its own)

Elizabeth Arden 8 hour cream, Lancôme mascara, MAC, Clarins and Bobbie Brown lipsticks, Clinique lip palette with mirror, Dermalogica lipbalm, Dior and Clinique eyeliners, Coco Chanel perfume, wet wipes, hair pins, hair tie, mini sewing kit, Disprin and a few other none-of-boys-beeswax items

2 x wallet (Guess & Mulberry)

One holds cash, cards and licenses, the other is a photo wallet… containing incriminating images of naked, hot men and women I’ve met over the years… No, silly, not really. But it could contain photos of all the bodies I’ve had to bury. That’s a joke too, by the way, in case this is every called into evidence for some bizarre reason.

1 x ID Book (South African)

I hide this well… The photograph is a hideous caricature of me, taken on a flu day when I had runny eyes and a red nose, after being wind-blown by a gale that would measure high on the Richter scale. Yes, I said Richter scale. That’s how bad the wind was, ok.

1 x duct tape

No comment.

1 x Carrol Boyes letter opener

I haven’t opened an envelope in 6 months.

2 x Velcro strips

Um. I believe these are here from that time, when I needed them for that thing I had to do.

1 x crystals

They weigh a kilogram, I’m sure. Bought last year in a ‘I need all the help I can get’ moment. They must have been working hard!

1 x Crabtree & Evelyn Honey, Lemon and Coriander hand cream

A stand-in Valentine’s gift from the boy...

1 x Ace of Hearts card

The design on the card is of a 60’s pin-up girl in wispy, see-through lingerie. It appeals to my inner burlesque queen.

1 x business card for Wildfire Tattoos

My go to tattoo parlour in Cape Town, just short of being on speed-dial

2 x key sets (Tiffany key ring and UK flag Harrods key ring)

One holds house keys, the other car keys

1 x Tiffany pen (aka Tiffany pen)

It’s scratched and dented, but that only adds to its personality.

1 x crocodile skin notebook

For scribbling and doodling. Lately I have been practicing signing my maiden surname: Miss Brown! I have also been laying out ideas for my Teddy Sutra porn collection

3 x tissues

For runny noses, obviously.

1 x Zippo

For setting things on fire, obviously.

Ok, that’s it. Let me know what you discover.

Reality Tale

Hello. Remember me? I won’t blame you if you don’t. It’s been so long since I blogged, I forgot my account password (again). Shameless, I know.

When last I wrote, I was a kept woman (also read as jobless) and in the beginning stages of a blossoming relationship. Today, I am a co-dependent working woman in the beginning stages of a live-in relationship (with the most imperfectly amazing man on the planet – boring, I know).

And, well, that’s it really. The end.

Ok, ok, I’ll expand a little more. I went for a gazillion interviews and got turned down - BBBEE or whatever. Good thing I’m used to rejection or I would have had zero self-esteem left. My retrenchment diary count got to in excess of 120 days. To be honest, I'd turned down a few unsuitable positions. I didn't want just any job, I wanted the right job. Anyway, I was boring people to tears with my conversations about what the best way to remove wine stains from the boys shirts were. I was driving the boy insane with my insomnia and with my crazy, and with making him my guinea pig for my cooking experiments. My friends had run out of motivational speeches and were low on mojo supplies as they’d had to donate most of theirs to me. I was driving myself around the bend. It was not pretty.

And then, once I’d found some calm in my mind and spirit and was able to realise that, despite being in some serious poo, the Universe was (in its own roundabout way) providing for me … and I received two of the best job offers in one week, and accepted what I thought was the most spectacular job offer for me (all within two weeks)!

A three-colour composite of a region of star formation in the constellation of Aquila

Credit: ESA

My lesson from this story includes lessons I’ve learnt and relearnt a million times: Everyday is another beginning, a chance to start again. Positive thought, positive feelings, positive results. The Universe does indeed provide, I just need to stop trying to bend it to my will. Sometimes I need to have a little more faith, in me, in people and in said Universe. My friends are all the family I need. And finally, my dark side will always try and lead me astray, but all I have to do is on hold tight.

As for The Boy, when the niggles and challenges and curve balls that life inevitably throws at you comes my way, he is in my corner. And if that wasn’t more than enough, I get to fall asleep in his arms every night and wake up in them every morning.

I’m one of the luckiest girls on the planet.

The Boy

*flexing fingers* Oh good. They work.

Well, where do I start. When I last blogged I was in the middle of having a moment. I won't apologise. I feel as if I have lived a year in the last two months. Things have been so busy! But alas, for all the busy-ness, I am still jobless/careerless, but not directionless. I did have a shot at starting something of my own today...something that could be great! More about that later. Or maybe not.

Life is certainly challenging at the moment, but I have someone standing by my side. I think it's time I come clean. A lot of my friends have been very curious about The Boy...

The biggest and best change in my life is having fallen for one of the most amazing men you could ever meet. I'm smiling so widely as I write this. Thinking about him does that. He isn't perfect (thank fuck for that), but he is perfect for me. I wasn't expecting him to just show up in my life, but that he did. There I was, minding my own business, separated from my very-shortly-to-be-finalised-ex husband (sad, yes, but...), enjoying being a singleton and... WHAM!

When I first met him, I kept him at arms length for quite a while. Looking back, it's kinda funny. He wooed me with serious intent and in the end I had to give in. I couldn't resist anymore. His weaponary included not playing on his very obvious alpha male appeal, disarming me with his sense of humour, using those sparkly, devlish green eyes against me, not judging me for the life I've lived, caring for me on a level most men would find it hard to match, understanding my crazy (even if he doesn't enjoy it), being affectionate regardless of where we are (mostly)... You get the picture.

Lest you think I'm painting this dreamy, moony, oh-so-perfect picture, let me share this with you. We're both awkward, and have had a couple of awkward "getting to know you moments". We're learning that it's all about communication. Well, I am, at least. Also, sometimes I don't get backrubs, or juice when I wake up, and the number of musical voicemails has declined to zero...  Hee hee :-) I may be a little spoilt. But I believe in starting as you intend to carry on!

I haven't known him for that long at all, but I don't care what other people may think. I trust my instinct and I'm choosing to share my life, no holds barred, with someone who contributes greatly to my happiness. I am treated like a queen, and I would do pretty much anything for him because of who he is, and how he treats me (and my Immy).

You do know that I could go on and on and on... but I best leave you with that. I would love to share my happiness with you all. I think we all deserve some happiness in between the madness.

Mwah!

UnPC

Dear Blogger.com,

It's been ages since my last post.

I will come back soon and tell you why I've been gone for so long. First, I need to get something off my chest. My apologies if it sounds like I got up on the wrong side of the bed. I didn't.

I am a curvy, slightly crazy, imperfect, 36 year old, mixed race, mixed culture, divorced mother of a 14 year old I had at the age of 23, while living the life of a model in the U.S of A. And that is just the half of it.

I have done some fucked up shit on my path, no doubt. (Details to follow in my first book.) I have also had some of the most fun, glamourous, scary, materialistic, thrilling, beautiful, spirtual, moving experiences in life, which very few people my age have been blessed enough to have. Hang in there, I'm going somewhere with this...

I have dived into every aspect of my life head first, with the greatest enthusiasm. Some of my choices have ended with hurt and pain, but no regret, and I've moved on to the next chapters in my life with as much enthusiasm as if i'd never felt pain. I will continue to overcome my fears and throw myself at life, because I believe in living and not merely existing.

To my point. I am proud of who I am. I love who I am. I am lucky and blessed to be where I am and have had the experiences I have had. I will not change my version of my life experiences for anyone. I am going to continue to be who I am.

I cannot change the colour of my skin, or my bloodline. I do not want to change the colour of my skin, or my bloodline.

Anyone who judges me based on the fact that I am mixed race, divorced, a mother and lived the kind of life that I have can go and fuck themselves. Yes, I have an EP of 95%, but right now 'go and fuck yourself' works for me.

Anyone who judges me based on the fact that I am mixed race, divorced, a mother and lived the kind of life that I have and HASN'T EVEN MET ME... no comment. Anyone found out making excuses for who I am, well, you can go and fuck yourself too.

Feeling this way must be what life was like, back in the dark ages. I am reminded of why I left South Africa in the first place.

The end.

New Millenium Lovers

"Love that is not madness is not love" - Pedro Calderon de la Barca

For the past decade and a bit, I was safely hidden in a world where I thought I understood love. Little did I know. In today's world, it seems I understand love even less.

Marriages are falling apart everywhere I look. My opinion on this subject is that unless you have completely stopped loving someone as your life partner, there is always a way to fix things. Call me naive. Whatever. It's when the love has been beaten to death and not even a defibrillator can bring it back that I can understand dissolving something as beautiful as a marriage. Unfortunately a lot of marrieds forget that once they believed the idea of marriage beautiful. When a marriage falls apart... well, it's one of the saddest things in life.

Here's what seems even more sad to me... falling in love in the New Millenium. It appears that each and every one of us has given our hearts to someone and been hurt. This is life. I find that the people from "my era" are being influenced just as much as younger generations by the instant gratification disease  that epitomises the times we live in now (Patience is a virgin. Yes, I said virgin. And we all know there are hardly any of those around anymore). When you add the two together, the results are not pretty.

The combination of hurt and instant gratification disease is leading to cynicism, scepticism, and fatalism. He's only with me because... He said so but... How long can love really last?... I want, now... Hell! I could expand on this theory for pages, but I'm not in the mood. If you ask me if relationships have any hope what-so-ever based on this attitude, I'd say don't fucking bother. This kind of love seems like a minefield... You can be blown to shreds at any moment. If that's your thing, good on you.

I look around and ask myself what happened to meeting someone (in real life, not on Facebook or Twitter), actually liking each other, then dating, flirting, falling head over heels in love, trusting, dreaming together, loving together, growing together... I feel really naive. For another world, another time.

Nothing in life is ever easy or simple. Yet it is.

I believe that if you want love that takes your breath away, moves your soul, frightens you a little bit, makes you happy, sets you on fire, makes you want to be a better person, gives you a glimpse of how beautiful the future could be, provides serenity, lifelong friendship and is better than any dream ...then you need to let go of the bullshit and learn to trust and have faith and be positive and visualise and endure and suffer and miss and desire and accept and be patient and believe and learn and communicate and be honest and passionate and courageous and yourself (as scary as that may be).

Or you could have moments that resemble these "New Millenium Lovers" and just say "fuck it", both literally and figuratively. I have moments when I get so vexed about love, and how difficult and painful it can be. In those moments I would rather just shut it off, disconnect, fly a million miles away and be on my own. The eternal party bachelorette, and eventually, the spinster mom and her cat. I like my own company, have great friends, am very sociable and would be just fine living that life. The problem is that I detest "fine", and as much as I like islands, I am not actually one. So what the fuck is a bird to do?!


I think the experiences I've had to date are different to those of my peers in that I have less time for being indirect. I know where I'm heading and how I want to get there. I'm generally life-loving, positive and driven and when I make up my mind, that is it. I realise that projecting this on to others is unfair, and so I work hard not to afflict my standards on those around me. I fuck up sometimes. That human thing.

There are moments when my passions consume me. Now is one of those moments.

Mush

This blog was meant to be a very specific short story. Once I'd finished writing it, I couldn't bring myself to publish it. I'm a wuss of a writer at the moment. Too many things going on in the background that I want to share, but just can't. And even though I can use dramatic license, there's the need for a soupçon of privacy, which I'm afraid my words would not provide no matter how much I abuse said license.

...In all honesty, this is like holding on to the juicest story in the universe. I swear if I don't tell someone I'm going to spontaneously combust. Ggaaahhhh! I need to get a grip.

Ho hum, twiddly thumb. Soooo... what shall I share with you instead? Thumb! That reminds me. I had a little accident last week. I was in the restrooms at The Zone in Rosebank, used the paper towel dispenser, and got my right thumb sliced through to the bone on one side, and all the way through the fleshy part on the other. The mall staff hadn't locked the towel dispenser and it fell and almost decapitated my thumb. I saw blood everywhere! There was a spurting fountain of it. I couldn't figure out where it'd come from, until I finally looked at my hand, then the floor, then the wall... I had to run out of the bathroom for help, leaving a trail of my DNA everywhere, then head back in to try and stem the flow while waiting for emergency services, which never arrived. I ended up wrapping my thumb in copious amounts of tissue paper, that turned red in seconds, and driving myself to the clinic in a state of shock with a bloody hand. I couldn't compress my hand and drive safely at the same time, so went with driving safely. It was not pretty.

Long story shortened, I ran from the hospital when they mentioned stitches and fled, with my bloody-wrapped hand, to a friends house who has extensive experience in such injuries. I arrived on his doorstep in a bit of a state, was given loads of TLC by his wife, and then they both put my thumb back together as best as they could. Did I mention the knight in shining armour who came speeding to my rescue? No? Well he soothed my frantic tears and made me feel a little calmer... and maybe slightly em-bare-assed.

I guess looking back at it now, it was the shock and pain, on top of not knowing the area I was in and trying to navigate my way around to find a hospital that combined together to freak me out a bit. Ok, a lot. Normally I would have called my father, but that's another story...

I sincerely hope you aren't eating anything while reading this. My thumb is on it's fourth dressing and the bone cut seems to be healing better than the one on the fleshy side. There will probably be scars, which I shall wear as badges of honour. Well, not really, but I always wanted to use that phrase.

See? I managed to distract myself and tell you a true (gross out) story without using dramatic license. Now I best go, before the feeling of spontaneous combustion sets in again.

A Trip Down Memory Lane

I'm home with the lurgy. Spent the night coughing, like someone with a 60-a-day habit. Very sexy. Just wanted to come online and share that with you.

With free time on my hands, I thought I'd do something productive, rather than give in to the work of the devil. I spent hours trawling through travel pics. They brought back some great memories! All the trips I've taken have been special, but a few stand out.

My first trip to Egypt was post the Al-Qaeda bombing of Sharm-El-Sheik. I felt quite guilty going on holiday after so many people had lost their lives, but the trip had been booked for ages. I spent my birthday travelling through Sharm (just another tourist destination), Dahab, Alexandria, Taba and Nuweiba. I snorkeled in the Blue Hole, had a local BBQ catered for by one of the Egyptian tribes in the Oasis of Mount Wadi Gnai, followed by a climb up the mountain itself. I rode a camel through the desert and then promptly passed out from heat stroke. I woke up a club-owner to belly-dance with local dancers at the Tree Club in Dahab, situated on the edge of the Red Sea, at 4 in the morning. I saw the sunset rise over Saudi, across the way. I slept on the sand of the Sahara, in a Bedouin camp. I remember lying on my back, listening to a fox howl, feeling the desert wind on my skin, and gazing up at a view of millions of stars before going to sleep. Breathtaking! All the photos in the world can't replace the memories I have of that trip.

Another memorable trip was to the US after having lived and studied there some years prior. I spent a few days in Big Bear, in the San Bernardino Mountains. I stayed in a log cabin, that overlooked the lake, surrounded by the mountains. I smoked vanilla cigars overlooking the lake, drank local wine and had the most amazing pancakes for breakfast at the Original Pancake House. I went hiking in the mountains, hoping to spot a cougar. Next time...

Laguna beach, on the west coast of the US, is one of my most favourite places in the world. I spent the afternoon watching Kelly Slater and Rob Machado on the beach, surfing. My friend, the original honky (aka Adam) lives in Laguna Beach. We went for lunch at Johnny Rockets after, where I had the best chilli cheese dog and curly fries in the world! Later, at Adam's place, we heard the sounds of his neighbours drifting in through his living room windows, in what can only be described as a display of mid-evening porno sex. Shameless!

As I'm writing this, I've begun to realise that there are quite a few memorable trips I'd like to wax lyrical about. There's Malta, where I went dancing at the St. Johns Co-Cathedral, built originally as the church for the Knights of St. John, and where Caravaggio painted the Beheading of St John the Baptist. Tunisia, where I went to try heal my soul a few months after Malakqi died. I went swimming off a coral reef in Hammamet, with a depth of over 30 metres! Thailand, Malaysia, Singapore, Maldives, Sri Lanka, Hawaii, New Zealand... the list goes and on and on.

I definitely have itchy feet. Where to next? I'm dying to go to Cuba, before the architechure and the old cars are completely phased out. I want to learn to Tango from the old Cubans who teach on the cobbled sidewalks throughout the city.

A trip to Machu Pichu in Peru is next on the list. Then India. Then... wherever the travel bug takes me.

I think I'm beginning to get delirious. I better go and lie down so the visions in my head will stop. It's so hot and sticky. I can't breathe. That may have something to do with the head congestion. Who would believe I went through 9 months with not a single sniffle and now summer is here, I get sick. Ho hum. Catch you later!