Life in the very fast lane...: Reflecting uponthis year
It is almost December, a...: Reflecting upon this year It is almost December, and yet it feels to me like it should be almost January, or more aptly put, the end ...
Wednesday 28 November 2012
Reflecting upon
this year
It is almost December, and yet it feels to me like it should
be almost January, or more aptly put, the end of a particularly tricky year.
This year seems to have brought so many challenges to so
many people. There seem to have been
more tales of woe than I have ever known, and more shocks to the system than
most have been able to cope with.
From a personal stand point, 2012 has seen me shed more
tears than I have shed collectively in my thirty nine years before this one;
more sleepless nights (for all the wrong reasons); more moments of anxiety, and
more moments of deep, deep despair than any other year.
However, as I am not one for negativity (despite the
paragraph above), one must focus on the good that comes out of years like this. It is apparently always darkest before the
dawn, and if that is true, it means 2013 is going to be nothing short of absolutely
FABULOUS.
All is not lost in terms of the year that was, and is for a
little more, 2012.
Yes, there were moments of darkness – pitch – to be exact;
but there were also moments of elation, moments of relief, there was laughter,
there were hugs, there was wine. Lots of
wine in fact.
My true friendships were confirmed; my not so true
friendships flowed away gracefully, which is fine; my family were, and remain,
my personal Rock of Gibraltar; some new friendships turned out to be stronger
than I could have ever have dreamt they would be; some old friendships weaker
than expected. There were dinners and
drinks, play dates and family “braais”, lunches and teas, and above all, some
highly, highly amusing conversations with the most fabulous taxi driver ever,
Minute, who now knows everything there is to know about me, and likes me
despite this knowledge.
I have frequented certain restaurants, and severed ties with
others (it is all about the ice – if there is not enough ice to keep the wine
cool – I simply move on); I have remained fiercely loyal to my favourite poison,
Sauvignon Blanc, and loyal too, to my second favourite poison, Merlot.
I have started and completed a “Creative Writing” course
(can you tell?), I have traveled as much as my magic carpet would allow, I have
seen many movies, sometimes on my own, I have sent more BBM’s than the average
American, and received some too.
So you see, it has not been all bad.
When I look back on it, and reflect as objectively as I am
able to: I am grateful for this
year. I am grateful for the hardships, because
it has taught me to be stronger; I am grateful for the tears, because my eyes
are now very clean; I am grateful that my true friends have remained true, and
steadfast, and honest and loving; I am grateful for the dawn, and for the end of
the darkness.
May 2013 bring only good news, fewer moments of sadness,
more moments of happiness, continued friendships; and to the now famous French
manufacturer, La Bouchage Mecanique, who invented the screw top for wine
bottles, I hope they know, that I will eternally remain in awe of their company…Monday 26 November 2012
Life in the very fast lane...: As I have been boarding at my mum's house for almo...
Life in the very fast lane...: As I have been boarding at my mum's house for almo...: As I have been boarding at my mum's house for almost six months, I thought it would perhaps be time to look at spreading my wings, and emerg...
As I have been boarding at my mum's house for almost six months, I thought it would perhaps be time to look at spreading my wings, and emerging from the lovely cotton wool for the soul that I have been living in.
And so, I decided to start looking around at apartments close to my daughter's school and see what there was on offer.
As I was a child who grew up in the '80's, imagine my delight when I found a lovely looking apartment block next to the school called "Melrose Place". I could suddenly picture in my head that I would immediately start looking like one of those lovely characters from the show I had truly adored, and perhaps, there would even be a resident "Jake" - a good looking chap who I could call upon when the lights tripped or the front door jammed (all of which I would have orchestrated of course).
So, after getting in touch with the estate agent, I was taken on a tour of the establishment, and to look at the one apartment that was available. The agent, a lovely lass, warned me that the residents were not as young as I clearly thought they would be.
What an understatement that was! In the fifteen minutes I was there, I saw several of the "locals", who all clearly felt compelled to come out and have a squizz at me and see if I would be suitable enough to live there. I am trying to be polite, so let me put it this way - their average age: 82.5; average hair colour: purple, with the occasional hint of blue.
The apartment was delightful, but knowing I have a feisty six year old, I could just see trouble brewing when the Disney Channel would compete for the neighbour's high volume episode of "The Antique Roadshow", and I didn't think there was any way I would be able to get anyone to help with a door jam, nor would I want to. I could see the potential for a lot of "meals of wheels", and this thought did not fill me with a lust for all things Melrose Place.
Needless to say, the hunt continues.
And so the moral: This is no longer the late '80's, I will likely never look like one of those lovely dames, and Jake... well, he certainly does not live at Melrose Arch Johannesburg!
And so, I decided to start looking around at apartments close to my daughter's school and see what there was on offer.
As I was a child who grew up in the '80's, imagine my delight when I found a lovely looking apartment block next to the school called "Melrose Place". I could suddenly picture in my head that I would immediately start looking like one of those lovely characters from the show I had truly adored, and perhaps, there would even be a resident "Jake" - a good looking chap who I could call upon when the lights tripped or the front door jammed (all of which I would have orchestrated of course).
So, after getting in touch with the estate agent, I was taken on a tour of the establishment, and to look at the one apartment that was available. The agent, a lovely lass, warned me that the residents were not as young as I clearly thought they would be.
What an understatement that was! In the fifteen minutes I was there, I saw several of the "locals", who all clearly felt compelled to come out and have a squizz at me and see if I would be suitable enough to live there. I am trying to be polite, so let me put it this way - their average age: 82.5; average hair colour: purple, with the occasional hint of blue.
The apartment was delightful, but knowing I have a feisty six year old, I could just see trouble brewing when the Disney Channel would compete for the neighbour's high volume episode of "The Antique Roadshow", and I didn't think there was any way I would be able to get anyone to help with a door jam, nor would I want to. I could see the potential for a lot of "meals of wheels", and this thought did not fill me with a lust for all things Melrose Place.
Needless to say, the hunt continues.
And so the moral: This is no longer the late '80's, I will likely never look like one of those lovely dames, and Jake... well, he certainly does not live at Melrose Arch Johannesburg!
Saturday 17 November 2012
Life in the very fast lane...: Now that I am living my own personal "Sex and the ...
Life in the very fast lane...: Now that I am living my own personal "Sex and the ...: Now that I am living my own personal "Sex and the City" - I am finding I am experiencing a lot of city, and very little of the first word. ...
Now that I am living my own personal "Sex and the City" - I am finding I am experiencing a lot of city, and very little of the first word.
When one is single, I feel you tend to do a lot more soul searching and spending time in deep thought on relationships.
I am often locked in thought about past relationships and what mistakes were made by myself and how I could have or should have done things differently (the benefit of hind sight); and then some time dreaming about the possibility of a new one, or a future one, and romanticising about the possible knight in shining armour who you are sure, must be arriving imminently.
But as time ticks on, and my single days roll into weeks, and now months, I find that I am enjoying my single life more and more. I love the freedom I have to go where I want to, when I want to; the freedom to accept the dinner dates I would like to attend, and decline the ones I don't really feel like; the freedom of not having to be home by a promised time (I am generally not good at this as I just love a party too much and tend to lose the ability to clock watch after my third glass of wine); the freedom to plan holidays with my daughter when it suits me, not having to wait for anyone else, and the freedom to make whatever decisions I want to - however, whenever.
Last evening I went out with a fabulous female friend, to a fabulous restaurant, in a fabulous neighbourhood. There were couples there, families there, big groups, small groups, and other girlfriends meeting like we were. At no time did I feel I was a lesser being for arriving at the trendy spot on my own, or indeed, leaving on my own. I loved the intelligent, interesting discussions I had with my friend, and I loved the freedom I had to flirt outrageously with the waiter so that he ensured our wine glasses were always filled almost to the brim.
People keep asking me how I am feeling "now that I am single" and I keep my reply standard - "I am loving it so much, it is a little worrying how much I am enjoying it". Never a truer statement was uttered from my lips. I also keep being warned that at some stage, loneliness will settle in and I will pine and long for that knight in shining armour (or at my age, probably a grey haired knight with false teeth and a pot belly with possible yellowed toe nails) - but as yet, I have not even had one nano-second of this feeling of loneliness. Elation, yes, freedom, yes, feeling in control of my life, absolutley yes.
And so the moral as I fast approach forty years of age: I may be nearly forty, but I still feel fabulous, and my own personal "long walk to freedom" has been worth each and every step...
When one is single, I feel you tend to do a lot more soul searching and spending time in deep thought on relationships.
I am often locked in thought about past relationships and what mistakes were made by myself and how I could have or should have done things differently (the benefit of hind sight); and then some time dreaming about the possibility of a new one, or a future one, and romanticising about the possible knight in shining armour who you are sure, must be arriving imminently.
But as time ticks on, and my single days roll into weeks, and now months, I find that I am enjoying my single life more and more. I love the freedom I have to go where I want to, when I want to; the freedom to accept the dinner dates I would like to attend, and decline the ones I don't really feel like; the freedom of not having to be home by a promised time (I am generally not good at this as I just love a party too much and tend to lose the ability to clock watch after my third glass of wine); the freedom to plan holidays with my daughter when it suits me, not having to wait for anyone else, and the freedom to make whatever decisions I want to - however, whenever.
Last evening I went out with a fabulous female friend, to a fabulous restaurant, in a fabulous neighbourhood. There were couples there, families there, big groups, small groups, and other girlfriends meeting like we were. At no time did I feel I was a lesser being for arriving at the trendy spot on my own, or indeed, leaving on my own. I loved the intelligent, interesting discussions I had with my friend, and I loved the freedom I had to flirt outrageously with the waiter so that he ensured our wine glasses were always filled almost to the brim.
People keep asking me how I am feeling "now that I am single" and I keep my reply standard - "I am loving it so much, it is a little worrying how much I am enjoying it". Never a truer statement was uttered from my lips. I also keep being warned that at some stage, loneliness will settle in and I will pine and long for that knight in shining armour (or at my age, probably a grey haired knight with false teeth and a pot belly with possible yellowed toe nails) - but as yet, I have not even had one nano-second of this feeling of loneliness. Elation, yes, freedom, yes, feeling in control of my life, absolutley yes.
And so the moral as I fast approach forty years of age: I may be nearly forty, but I still feel fabulous, and my own personal "long walk to freedom" has been worth each and every step...
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