Dear Ri

6 March 1984 I wrote my first entry in my first ever diary. Gillian Anderson (not the X-Files lady) gave it to me for my birthday @ my Mike's Kitchen birthday party. And so the next 27 years were borne. lol
I gave my diary a name. It seemed like the right thing to do. And I still start my entries as I did that first one. Like I'm writing to someone. What do I call my diary. Well, even at age 10, I didn't want to be like everyone else and write (ho hum yawn) "Dear Diary". So I called her Ri. Say it aloud. See what I did? Looking back, I do think it's rather clever of my 10 year old self to do.
I wrote gibberish that first year, full of mooning over Magnum and George Michael and my friend T and I running all over the neighbourhood. The next two years are spent wondering why all the boys on their BMX's loved T and not me. Truth is, at age 11 and now, she is stunning and I was/am the shorter than average, freckled chubby cheeked brat!
I look back at those entries and cry with laughter. In 1986, I got my first kiss - this entry has been read out on GMTV by Richard and Judy (oh the heights of fame!) and it makes me giggle "Today M kissed me, on the mouth, with his lips, open - wow!"
1987 we hit high school - entry of the naive 13 year old has to be "H asked me if I'd ever given anyone a BJ. I dunno, have I? I'm not sure.Will have to ask Catty on the weekend". H being a girl in boarding school who probably gave them for breakfast, and Catty being my long-suffering aunt.  1987 is the start of much peer pressure on both sides of a coin, bitchiness and angst. And wanting boys who didn't notice me. But best of all, making friends who have lasted the distance and years.
1988 - I do dislike reading this year. It's the year I tried so very hard to fit in and be cool and failed oh so miserably. It's a year when I pissed off my mother, my family and burnt friendships at a glance. But also parts are so much fun like when TSG and I got grounded for two weeks at a time regulary. Fab groundings when everyone came to visit us!

I'm so glad I keep a diary. It's not the same as it was back then, I write now more about how I feel, when I feel like it, not so much an everyday affair. But the diaries back then are more like scrapbooks before they became the 'thing to do' that they are now. They are filled with momento's and dates and all the important stuff a teenager wants to remember.  I have a menthol cigarette stuck in my diary in 1990 from a friend, 50c that we picked up. Condom wrappers from a 'jiffy' that L put inbetween the train doors. Bet she doesn't remember that. lol
And if you had me as a friend back then, then you could ask me what you did on a certain day and I'd probably be able to tell you.

I guess I'm the historian of my friends. Shall we get remembering?

Numbers

So I was talking to the gals the other day.... and it was that age old chat about how many is too many. People to sleep with I mean. And the double standards. When a man informs you that he is almost into triple figures, you gasp a bit and then laugh. When a woman informs you of the same fact, why do we gasp and then think 'tad slutty'. Is it because as a woman, the majority invest quite a lot of emotion into sex? And you wonder how much emotion have you lost by sharing it with half the world?

And I've come to the conclusion that there is no 'acceptable' number - if indeed you can remember your number. If you are happy, then be happy. I've also come to the conclusion that EVERYTHING is a 'memory maker' and when you can sit in  your rocking chair age 90 and go 'well back in 1991, there was this one boy..and in 2003 I met this chap.', then you have lived and living is good.

While I'm thinking and typing, isn't it also a bit rude to ask 'numbers' of people? And maybe it's better not to know, I'm not sure I want to share my body with someone who's been around all the blocks twice. Yes for sure, they're probably damn good at what they do but in all other areas of my life, I thrive on the unique experience, not one where half the town goes 'oh yeah, I did that'.

Mind babble over...

Halloween

I don't get it, I really don't. You spend your years as a parent, telling your children to never ever take sweets from strangers. Yet, one day a year, parents all over the world, dress their kids up in fancy dress and encourage them to knock on strangers doors and ask for sweeties. Why do we do that?
And I feel guilt because I haven't done the trick and treating with my son... guilt - seriously!!!!! I've let him go around our street - and the people he knows, but strangers? Nope.
And I don't think I'm a bad parent for this. So there!

Memory Maker

Oh I've done it again, I've left my heart somewhere it has no place to be. It appears I've also left my balance there as well, as I have very little of it about my person at the moment - maybe this is why I'm over emotional and doing my best not to wish I was somewhere I'm not going to be. I know things are what they are but I'm really only human and I'm also a female, so there's a speck of me who is such an hopeless romantic, who kind of wishes things WERE different, that it was an ideal world where the people who should love me, do. No I don't mean people, I mean person.
I have had such a great week... I really travelled half way around the world - I did that! I went somewhere I have NEVER been before, I saw the most beautiful sights (thinking more caves and scenery than sex shows) and colours and met the nicest people. And ate divine food! And that was so amazing, I lost my words on so many occasions. However, I went with the one person who has never really changed for me - sad as that may be of me, it is mostly true.....obviously my life has gone on and I've done many a thing with it. But this person has occupied a part of me that no one else can reach. I don't live with expectations, I am more your go with the flow gal and that's not always been a good thing. But I think it works in this case BECAUSE.... and here's my grand theory: This is how it is. We have always met up and spent time together and then gone somewhere else - like where we live. And in the days when I thought I wanted what every one appears to have or want, that was frustrating and I perhaps read into situations a bit more intensely than I should have. But now that I'm who I am in this life, I realise that maybe just maybe, this is how the relationship is grown (see earlier blog) and that's what makes it touch the parts of my heart that others can't. I would be very happy with doing what we did again somewhere else. That's not to say I won't have moments where I would wish I was living a life but I do appreciate that maybe that's not in my make up to do successfully. I like my own company - and there were times on this trip that I looked around and thought, "I could do this somewhere else on my own, maybe lol". I wouldn't have had such a great time though...the company was superb, I could not have imagined having such a good time with anyone else. No one else seems to judge my mood as well....or should that be, no one else puts up with me quite as well? ;o)

Anyway, huge big shout out and thanks to one of my most favourite memory makers - epic. We are.

the love you have

My son - who shall be hereby named CG, said something yesterday. I can't remember what it was or how relevant it was at the time. But I looked at him and thought 'Gee I really love you but I also really like you'. Yes, he's at that age where I truly get why my mom said of me at that age 'I'd swing for you'.  He's at that age where essentially he is still a child but thinks he's an adult. I predict this stage to last until he's well into his 20s... if I'm anything to go by. But he is truly funny and witty and considerate and just really a nice person. And I really like his company.

And I'm sure there are plenty of lovely 13 year olds out there, but this one I made, so I have a particular fondness for him. And yes, I guess I have shaped him into a bit of who he is. He says please and thank you because that's how I taught him to behave.

I didn't - as I'm sure many didn't - think I'd be any good at this mothering lark. I didn't think I'd do a particulary good job and sure there are days when I think I must be absolutely disgusting and failing at every turn. But on the whole, I thinkI can be proud of CG and the little man-child he is.  I didnt' want to be a single mother, it was never in my plan of how life should be but shit happens and I have been. And if I was a play, I would have proved the critics wrong. If CG was a cake, he'd have risen nicely.

My funny, lovely, taller than me CG. My most favourite and best accomplishment.

You know I started thinking about this blog and how I really didn't want to offend anyone with it. Like how if I say something that's not liked. I wouldn't want to hurt anyone with my words. But then I also figure that the people that irritate me the most are self absorbed and full of their own life's importance, that they wouldn't read my blog because it's not about them. Well, time to catch a wake up, because this one is! 
I'm one of those people that aren't like dynamite - one spark and boom! off she goes. No, I'm more a gentle simmer with a big boil at the end. I take the bad behaviour, I take the digs, I take the shit and then I take no more. Maybe I'm more like a camel with straw as opposed to a pot?
I seem to have people in my life who, for the most part, are good people - I like having them around, they're a good laugh, a good shoulder and generally love me to bits. But sheesh, these people are driving me to some very bad moods at the moment. I dislike the whole keeping up with the Jones' attitude, I dislike the showing off of monetary goods. Maybe it's the way I was brought up. I didn't have a family that went without at all. My dad is not a miser and never has been. If he's got it, he'll spend it. We had all the gadgets that were to be had etc. And we also had immense amounts of love in our family. I'm not one of those people who can say that they had a shite childhood, mine was pretty damned good. Oh yes, Mom was WAY too strict until I was 16 - that seems to be the extent of my bad days as a teen. ;o) I was showered with love and everything my heart desired. And therefore it was never about what we had in our house, because we had all I needed. So that's maybe why it pisses me off beyond belief when people brag about what they have... or rather: that's fine that you have the latest x y and z. But seriously, you don't need to make it into an epic tale. Because yes, it's pretty but I don't care. A car is a car, a couch is a couch and a tv is a tv. Can you see the same shows I can? Yes? Well then, who the hell cares that yours is a 2011 model with chrome finish and dual controls and white leather airbags? You are trying to impress the wrong person.
It's the self satisfied smugness when people big themselves up. If I have to hear ONE more time that you've got one leg, three toes, seven children, yet can still do the weekly shop while caring for your aunty's stepson's granny and go to work for 8 days a week, I'll scream. We all have our cross to bear. We all think we're doing an epic job, so you're no different. Just get on with it.
And my favourite whinge of the day: stop putting me down so that you can brag how fab you are doing. I can big myself up too. No actually I can't. I feel like I'm doing a crappy day to day job of keeping afloat. Especially compared to you with your seven kids, ten dogs and your one leg.

I can tell you the outcome of this as well... I'll get so 'gatvol' and so annoyed of your bleating and your gloating, and you putting me down,  that I'll go distant, I'll make excuses and I won't return your calls. And then we won't be friends, and you'll wonder why you lost someone you claim to love so much.

I do value these friendships and I'm sure it's a passing phase but right this minute I just can't be bothered. So excuse me while I hibernate until you both get out of your self absorbed phase.

Aaah already I feel better! And can probably go on another day. Actually, another thought that's crossed my mind: should adulthood really be like kidhood? Time to broaden my circles....

Hmm

My mom still manages to make me laugh. Well in a 'you said what' kind of way. I want to take my son on holiday when some money comes through. My parents are aware of this, so I thought.
Anyway, that's the back story. So today, mom and I are having a conversation where a friend has texted me saying they miss me (in Cape Town) and I must come on holiday. So Mom says 'oh you must and take the child'. Bearing in mind, her speech is still affected by the stroke, I still thought it was a good sentence. So I said I was thinking about it, but I think I'd take him somewhere a bit closer. No, she gets quite animated at this point and says I must GO! with him and soon. I said well it's a bit far, a bit expensive, I was thinking more South of France or somewhere Europe but hot.
She gets VERY cross and says no no no I must go forever with him and never come back. So we were not talking a holiday. She was talking about me emigrating back to South Africa (is it emigrating when you're going back? hmm maybe not). I point out to her that really as much as it would probably be a nice move on my part, I'm not really prepared to take my son away from his only set of grandparents that he knows. That it wouldn't be fair on my dad nor CG. She appreciates that. To be fair, she's always championed me moving elsewhere. Until I actually make moves to do it that is. And I've had the conversation with my dad and he reckons they would be okay. BUT I think he was more meaning somewhere in England.

But it gets a gal thinking, if all things were perfect in my world: would I, could I leave this country? I yearn for a home where the seasons know their place. Where you can have a summer and a winter wardrobe. Where you know your quality of life may be more than it is at the moment. But I love England, the beauty of it is completely different to Africa. I love the castles, I love the fact there is a HUGE amount of history everywhere. I love that I live in an area where an actual battle took place. That the streets are clean, that I have a job and can pay my bills. So it's safe here, I have the excuses I need not to move.

BUT that creates a somewhat stagnant, bored and fed up me. My feet are itchy and want to do something! All of me is just wanting to break free. To just shut the door and let the house get on with itself. To just start fresh.  Maybe it's not even that, but I want to get out there, live a little, laugh a lot. Not be bogged down by pettyness of the humdrum. Or even enjoy the humdrum because you know that there's something waiting for you.

It's no good really talking about it, or even blogging about it, if you're not going to do something about it. I need a list, a scheme and a piece of string - because that's what McGuyver always had for a good plan coming together - or am I getting my 80's sitcoms confused? Oooh and maybe throw in a bit of the Magnum as I already have a nice fast red car. What the plan will be is anyones guess, but like all my adventures so far, I'm sure it'll just attach itself to me when it's ready to!

And I'm sure this blog is a bunch of nonsense words that don't make any sense, but that's just me all over. It's amazing how the mind jumps back and forth. To be fair, I'm still chuckling that mother might have thought I wanted to move to the South of France. It's a good thing really that I didn't tell her I wanted to go to Thorpe Park! :)