one.hundred.eight

my book is complete.

[i'll update this entry some more when i've had some sleep!]

love love love

one.hundred.seven

so, here it is: the cover.

*the crowd ooohs and aaahs*

this process has been one beautiful headache; and it's not over yet. i always thought writing the book would be tough, but it does not compare to the editing process. lawd, i am not qualified for this! still, when it's published on july 29th, i'ma be like: damn. i really did this. and then the world is in trouble, cos i'll be wanting to do more.

due to my employment status [the status being that i have no employment], i can't lay out the money required to get the book printed. a couple of weeks ago i was close to giving up on publishing it at all, and then [after an emotional experience that i've detailed in the book] i decided to publish as an ebook instead. you gotta roll with the punches right? i'm trying to make lemonade up in here!

publishing this book is a big step for me. i don't think i've ever been so honest about myself or my life, perhaps not even to myself. old foes will be able to read this book and take pleasure in some of the things they read, that's how open i am in these pages. but i'm fearless in general these days. fearless and imperfect, and this time next week i'll never again be able to pretend that i am anything different. how liberating.

i know that everyone that says they are going to buy the book won't do so. that's ok; the well-wishes mean a lot to me. in some ways i don't care if i sell one copy; the riches ultimately come from what i've put into, and not just what i get out of this text. but, to memorialise the kindness of those that do take the extra step and part with their money, i have decided that the first 9 people to purchase the book will be listed in the acknowledgements when the book is printed. and not just the first edition, but any that are to follow.

if you began reading my blogs on this blogspot a few months ago, have been reading my blogs for the past few years on myspace, or if you just stumbled across my page today and like the way i put these words together:

july 29th 2009.

all is well.

[love]

one.hundred.six

we all like to complain from time to time; exaggerate our problems and make momentary mountains out of molehills. a ten-minute whinefest with a good friend can be fun and quite hilarious. i've certainly enjoyed my fair share.

but people who make drama a way of life, some kind of pseudo career, are really not welcome in my space [pause] anymore. people who turn every situation into a code red, turn every event into a crisis, and make every problem appear unsolvable [just so they can complain about it indefinitely] can exit stage right. hell, they can exit stage wrong, just vacate the damn premises.

the irony is that the only people that have time to make drama out of nothing, are people that have no drama. this is the main reason why it annoys me so much. i really don't need to have intense conversations about shit that you and i both know is a pretend-problem. it's just...well...boring. why waste time complaining when you can be basking in the glow of your good fortune?

the past two years have taught me that perspective is everything. i'll be sharing more about my trials and tribulations in my book, but i'll say now that as someone who has been unable to freely eat and drink for two years, i have had to make a serious decision about the way in which i want to live my life. when you feel like you are staring death in the face you have to either check-in or check-out.

i checked in. i'm tryna see the silver-lining; so if you're constantly looking for the clouds, you're gonna have to rain on another person's parade.

all is full of love. always. and if it isn't, then i'm all about trying to get it there. life is too short for idle griping. i'd rather laugh til i pee on myself.

happy solar eclipse!

one.hundred.five

maxwell and i have been married for 14 years. he doesn't know anything about it, but i'm happy to report that it's been the most successful relationship i've ever had. we don't talk [because he doesn't know that i exist], and so we don't fight. it's a peaceful, loving [one-sided, but no less potent] relationship. heaven.

embrya, his least popular album, is my favourite. it's one of my favourite albums full stop. i like, totally get it. and i guess i thought this meant that i understood him, that if he was standing in front of me i'd do the fingerpoint to eyes gesture signalling that we're >here<

i really wanted to like this new album. i liked the cover and i really wanted to love the music too. i really did. god knows i attacked all of my friends that spoke ill of what i was sure would be a masterpiece. because um, it's maxwell, people! even if it doesn't blow you away, it's still maxwell and it will still be hot and definitely worthy of heavy itunes rotation. i was certain.

but um...

no.

one.hundred.four

do you dream when you sleep?

i used to be someone that had dreams every night. when i found out that other people didn't always dream at night i was really surprised. i thought dreaming was a mandatory part of sleeping. the concept of dreamless sleep was something that i found it hard to wrap my head around; and i even felt sorry for these poor non-dreamers.

then about a year ago i stopped dreaming every night, and then i pretty much stopped dreaming altogether. i don't know why this happened, but i thought it may have been my body's reaction to my ill health. i used to love waking up from a full night's dreaming, but it really did tire me out. i'd often wake up ready to go straight back to sleep to recover from the sleep i just had. as i was functioning on very little energy at the time, i think my dreams were kind enough to give me a break.

but this past week i've begun dreaming again. gosh, i forgot how twisted my subconscious is! last night i dreamt [is this a real word? i hate the word dreamed, but dreamt doesn't look right.] that i was in love with usher. usher! ew. my brother took me to usher's house, who was aware of my imminent arrival and feelings for him. people in the house were smiling and excited, no doubt about the fact that they were soon to witness a fairytale moment where usher and i would fall into each other's arms and smooch it up. except this didn't happen. he walked down the stairs, wrapped in a duvet, saw me, and was completely underwhelmed by my presence. he was sucking his thumb [i still suck my thumb, so there's nothing wrong with this. it's genetic, i swear, my grandmother sucked her thumb til the day she died. don't judge me!] and he signalled for me to follow him to his bedroom. no, not to do the nasty, but to sit on his bed, in the dark, while he slept. and then i got bitten by a mosquito.

i woke up tired and confused. what does this dream meeeeeean? nothing probably. i find those dream interpretation books quite pointless; they're like the horoscopes in the newspaper. sooo hit and miss. how about my horoscope yesterday was giving me advice on how to handle people at my job. i'm unemployed! in yo' face random astrologer that only uses sun signs when i am so much more a product of my venus and moon!

anywhens: having these dreams back is turning into quite the bittersweet experience. on the one hand i am excited that they have returned and take it as a sign that i'm getting stronger. on the other i am worried about where my deviant subconscious will take me next.

to be continued, i'm sure...

one.hundred.three

narcissistic webcam fun.

and now back to designing my book cover...

one.hundred.two

tell me this ain't gangsta!

forget the angry, threatening songs; this woman is singing to her rival with a smile on her face.

a smile!

which probably means that she's batshit crazy, and would break her rival's neck in a heartbeat.

i also imagine that this song was originally 2 seconds longer: the ending was her hollering bitch!

that's how i sing it anyway.

one.hundred.one

i've decided that i'm busy is no longer a reasonable excuse for...anything.

it's not a good enough reason for lovers not returning calls.

it's not a good enough reason for friends not being able to hang out.

it's not a good enough explanation for a dirty house.

it's not a good enough excuse for ignoring unexciting, but important tasks.

it's just not.

when we say that we are busy, or too busy, what we are really talking about out are our priorities. it's not that we are too busy, it's that the thing that we are too busy for is not as important as what we have chosen to do instead. i'm not using value judgements; when i say important i simply mean that which is higher up on our list, more pressing. choosing to work instead of go to a party doesn't mean you love working more than being with your friends; but it does mean that you have deemed working to be more important on that particular day.

i've dated guys that were too busy to spend time with me, or return my calls. hearing this faux justification used to annoy the hell out of me, and i would let them know how i felt. then as time went on, and i became more zen, i decided that it was my ego, my imbalance, my resistance that was creating a problem. but then i became a woman with my own incredibly busy periods and i became annoyed again. i became annoyed because i realised that they really weren't too busy to see me: i just wasn't a priority of theirs. i wasn't high up on their list.

i don't want any boyfriend of mine telling me he's too busy for me. if oprah can hold down a relationship with stedman [and possibly gail too], then the average joe can find 5 mins in his day to give me a call. are there exceptions? of course. i know that things can be hectic, and there are all kinds of variables that mean it might not be possible on a given day. but if someone is telling me it's hard to find a moment for me every day? um...no. please don't date me. at some point you have to be honest about what you choose to make time for. this is why i'm not interested in a relationship right now. if i had a man then i'd be the one on the phone saying i'm too busy. truth is that a relationship is just not a priority of mine right now. and if someone did come along that made me reevaluate this then i would have to jiggle my list around, not just plonk them at the bottom of it.

the truth is that if we want to make time for something/someone then we do. i'm busy right now with various journalism projects, my book, website launches, portfolios and looking for a regular job but here i am blogging this entry. i also managed to find time to watch judge judy and big brother today, although i was too busy to call my bank and talk to them about my overdraft. see what i mean?

now, i'm not suggesting that we all start telling our friends that we can't meet for coffee because they're not a priority. i'm busy is the appropriate reason in most circumstances when we're dealing with others. for the sake of polite social interaction, please do not abandon the b-word.

so why do i say it's not a reasonable excuse? because even though it is the best thing to say to others, it is an unnecessary and potentially harmful thing to say to ourselves. it's dangerous because it's believable and it encourages avoidance. we become inept at effectively tackling those things/people that are the least desirable. it can take us weeks, months, even years to eradicate uncomfortable tasks from our lists and stressful people from our lives. this does not bode well for our holistic health.

so, i think it's time for some housekeeping. stop for a moment and think about the people, things and tasks you regularly tell yourself you are too busy for. really just pause for a moment and think.

who and/or what is clinging to the bottom of your list?

why?

now: clear those cobwebs.

one.hundred

all is well

this is the title of my book.

it will be published on july 29th 2009.

i can't wait to share it.

ninety.nine

the first time i saw this movie was a complete accident. i was at home, bored and channel surfing when i stumbled across it. i think i stopped flicking and decided to watch it, not just because i was interested, but because i was too lazy to keep flicking.

i could not have predicted that this movie, released in 1945, would touch me the way it did; and that it would leave me with some wholewheat multigrain food for thought. i knew immediately that it was a movie i wanted to own and so i began searching for it everywhere, but to no avail. it's not one of those old classics that you can find in your local video store, so i turned to the interwebs hoping to find a copy. i did find it, but the people selling it on amazon and ebay wanted hundreds of beans for it [how about no?]. after more than a year of intermittent searches i accepted defeat and told myself that this movie would have to find me instead...and it did!

some lovely person has uploaded the whole movie to youtube, along with a heap of other old movies that i look forward to getting into when i find the time. i curled up on my sofa and watched the enchanted cottage one afternoon last week and fell in love with it all over again.

it's hard to explain why i love this movie so much without giving the entire plot [and the special, beautiful, magic moment] away. so i will just say this: what we think and believe about ourselves is what ultimately shapes our experience in and of this world.

to reference my myspace page: think peace, hold hope, speak love.




click here to watch the movie

ninety.eight

i was making my signature mango & strawberry smoothie this morning when i found this very special specimen at the bottom of the punnet...


as i'm sure you can imagine: my smoothie tasted love-ly.

ninety.seven

i was on my way home from a very productive meeting this evening and thought i'd get some food from a thai place i haven't tried before.

it's a little family-run spot, and the smell of lemongrass that caressed my nostrils as i walked in made me feel right at home. after ordering my food i was presented with complementary jasmine tea by the momma bear because it was getting cold outside. so sweet. she sat with me and we chatted about the ups and downs of the restaurant until my food was ready. i left, food in hand, and practically skipped all the way home. i couldn't wait to tuck into my treat of chicken and prawn on toast, followed by prawns and vegetables in red curry paste.

sounds delicious right?

well, when she was taking my order, momma bear asked me how hot i wanted my food and i requested it not too spicy; which means mild. but it seems that somewhere between my lips and her ears the words not too spicy transmuted into something along the lines of ON FIRE. after three mouthfuls, and an equal amount of swallows, it began to feel like satan was grilling volcano steaks on a bbq in my guts. if that was mild then i don't even wanna know what hot is like. good gawd. this was the kinda meal that is sure to burn twice. drop by the crib tomorrow and i'll surely have a bag of frozen peas stuffed down my drawers.


huh?

what's that you said?

why did i eat it all?

cos i was hungry!

and aside from the flames of death that were blazing in my mouth and down my gullet: it tasted pretty good!

ninety.six

i don't mind the pms, cramps and headaches; because one day i'm gonna get to feel this:

being a woman totally rocks.

ninety.five

when i was 18 i made the decision to 'fix myself'. i can't remember any particular event that precipitated this, and so can only assume that my desire to work out all of my issues, banishing them to my past, was the result of a culmination of experiences. with a dr phil book in hand, i began to explore my demons, determined to discover and destroy them all during an extended family holiday in the caribbean.

looking back, i think i was very brave, but i was also very naive. although looking at wounds can help them heal, they do often leave scars. the deeper the wound, the bigger the scar; and whilst i most certainly caught a glimpse of previously unacknowledged wounds, i was misguided in my attempt to transform known scars into nothingness. scars can and do fade, but the deeper the wound, the less likely this is to happen. for some of our hurts, scars are the final destination.

and this rule rings true not just for my hurts, but for some of my least desirable traits and idiosyncrasies. for whatever reason, i'm someone that internalises...um...almost everything. i get caught up in my head far too much, to the extent that i can think my days away. i weigh up every option for so long that i don't get anything done. i dream so much that i get attached to them and get nervous about my ability to make them a reality.

this is my scar. my scar that i have seen a million times. my scar that i have accepted will not fade. it's one of the reasons why my achievements might seem bigger to me than they do to others, and also why i find it hard to bask in them for very long.

so, almost 10 years since that first dr phil book, i'm embarking on a new mission. not to erase my scars, but to consistenly be more than just the sum of them. to turn my burdens into quirks. to learn how to carry on regardless with a much quicker turnaround. to turn the noise down in my head and make more noise with my mouth. to take less mental steps and walk more miles with my feet. to use my fingertips not just to press against my temples in despair, but to write the beautiful stories of my heart that are far more persistent than i deserve.

i'm fixed on this.

ninety.four

[july 11th 2009]

radiohead - nude

i'll keep this brief: this is some sexy-ass music. in rainbows is such a work of art. delicious.

honourable mentions:
brutha - she's gone
roisin murphy - footprints

ninety.three

"soul receives from soul that knowledge, therefore not by book nor from tongue.

if knowledge of mysteries come after emptiness of mind, that is illumination of heart."

- rumi