today

 Again with the not blogging so much. 

Today I get to have my booster jab. And there's just so much discussion about to vaccine or not to vaccine. And yada yada yada. 

I choose to. Now here's the thing. Historically, I don't have a great reaction to things like this. As a child, I reacted so badly to my first inoculation, that I didn't have anymore. When I was writing Matric, measles was travelling around and so we were all told to line up and receive some kind of booster. I didn't have that. Because - bad reaction.

As an adult, I've reacted super badly to the Hepatitis ones and various others. However, when the call came for my Covid jab I nearly ran up to the vaccine centre and here's why. Firstly, the reaction I have to the flu one is mild in comparison to the others. And secondly, getting Covid without a vaccine, seems like it could be a death sentence to me...what with my asthma and all. I would rather suffer with after effects of a injection (rarely has it gone over 72 hours) than be in hospital on a ventilator. 

Most importantly, that's my choice. It's my choice to have these jabs - flu and otherwise. I have decided that Covid would ruin my family as it is, if we weren't vaccinated. I'm not saying I won't get it - but if I do I'm hoping because of the vaccination - that is is a milder form that doesn't impact my life as it is now. 

I HATE being sick, I mean I'm truly the world's worst. Why would I inflict that on anyone. It's bad enough my asthma etc makes me want to scream in frustration, why would I add Covid to that mix. 

I went to a friends yesterday for coffee. She has a cat. I'm allergic (obviously) to cats. (it's milder than it was but still) so I took my meds, and I didn't end up not breathing. I mean, I had streaming and itchy eyes and my breathing was affected but not to the extent I would have been had I not taken something for it. 

D'ya see what I'm saying? Have it, don't have it. But for me, it's my choice to have that because I believe it's to my benefit. 

If it makes me a sheep, I really don't care. If you laugh at me because I'm wearing a mask, again I don't care. Because I'm alive to be a mask wearing sheep. Baa

Today I get my booster.. and because I have an interview this week, please dear vaccine gods, don't let me have a reaction. Which is probably what I wanted to say at the start of this. 

9 years

9 years, what does that look like? It looks like a lot of anger, a lot of what could have been and a lot of missing someone. But it also looks like a lot of laughing. A lot of thankfulness for having such a beautiful soul in my life for 24 years. A lot of talking to myself.

9 years, I cannot fathom Nhandi has been gone so long. I can still recall every emotion of that day, nine years ago. And every emotion since.

Just three years ago, I found myself alone on a beach in Goa and I screamed out over the Arabian Sea at her asking why had she left me, her parents, her babies behind. I flumped onto the sand and sobbed and sobbed.

There is so much of my life she has missed... so much she would have given me hell for. I can hear her shrieking with laughter over a lot of it as well. I know I've made bad choices, based totally out of grief for her - some great ones as well. I know she'd have understood each and every one of them.

So I take off this day from work every year... and some years I cry buckets and other days I laugh hysterically. But always I remember. I remember that I had a great love, a great friendship, a sister I chose for myself and someone who got me no matter what. Who wasn't afraid to tell me I was being a brat.

This year is a bittersweet one - I'm emotional but I'm not sad. I just miss my best friend. My 1313. My Nhands.

I'm so meh

 As always, the need to type furiously and fast just slams into me. I could write but it turns out I actually can't right now (this has never happened). I've been sitting, armed with a pen (sometimes two) and one of my many notebooks and I end up doodling. I am unable to put pen to paper. I'm hoping I can put fingers to keyboard a bit better. 

My head is a cacophony of thoughts right now. I am all a jumble. It's like I'm all fits and starts. I'm wanting to move forward, but I'm also wondering if I'm just repeating my old adage of saying 'the chapter is over' when really it's not. And I'll prove myself wrong yet again. There is also a part of me that wonders if I'm just having that in my head as a forefront to not deal with anything else. 

And there's a lot to deal with right now. 

It turns out I can't put fingers to keyboard either right now. I want to, I really do. But I have nothing I want to put down in print. 

I will say this: I'm really quite weary and tired of being told one thing and then seeing something else in front of me. I'm tired of all the double talk and double action. I'm really just tired of having to do and say the right thing all the time. I'm tired of the hints about being 'fat' for one, for my mom being in rehab (of the physical kind) and not knowing how much to push for another.  

I'm tired. I hope this is just a phase and the start of the winter meh. 

The feels

 I've got the TV on - it's Olympic season after all. And I'm reading my book, but also snoozing just a bit because late night last night. I look up at the TV, and there she is: The Mother City. The Fairest Cape of them all. It is also Lion Rugby season. 

I don't think I'll ever tire of that view of the place I was born. I look at it with true fondness and love. And yes, the front of Table Mountain wasn't the view I had every day (the back of it was though) BUT I can look at this frozen image on my TV screen and memory walk 'there's where my Nana lived, there's where we walked on the Prom. There's where CG went nose to nose with a squirrel, where Nhandi lived. Where Su and I had our near escape with death. Co-ordinates of my tattoo. The place where I had my belly button pierced. Where Catty took me jolling. Where I played pool - danced on a table - did tequila, danced in a sweaty room with my favourites. Oh the places I have gone. In that city. The emotions I have ridden. The place that will always be in me. 

I look at the date and realise that it's been two years since my feet touched African soil. 2 years ago I was walking around my apartment in Pretoria, making sure I had everything. I was ready to head to the airport - I had made some choices and then decisions, and knew that there would be difficult conversations ahead with an individual. I thought I knew what the future held. But Covid and 2020 truly put all that to rest. But not wholly in a bad way. It is what it always is. But I did think I'd go back to Pretoria and I can't see that happening because travel is just not what it was yada yada yada. 

I wonder about if it's Africa or if it's Cape Town that squirrels it's way into you. I think it might be both. I know it's a place with a lot of difficulties but I'm not here in this moment to talk about that. I'm thinking about how fierce I feel - how passionate I feel when I look at the city bowl and yearn to just be there. The love I have for the city and surrounds. I'm not even sure that makes sense. I'm not even sure it's about memories. It's about a feeling. My heart swells. I look down there and I can pinpoint The Gardens, a place I still know every inch of (well most of the inches, I'm sure there's inches I've missed) and maybe it's just about connections. If I swing back to where I am now, I know that I can look at certain bits of Hastings and feel that same kind of connection. Or maybe it's the sense of belonging. I know when I'm in Cape Town, I feel that I belong somewhere. 

One picture, I look at one picture and that's what I feel. I don't think many people get that. 

Ali's African Adventures

It's not all about me, but this blog is.

 I see the positive in stuff, I know this to be true. And that doesn't mean I'm not meh and arrrgh some of the times, but confronted with a shitty situation, I have a NEED to see the sunshine in it. To find a way. 

I've lost a best friend - I do not want to travel down that road again. I don't want to be that mess I was. I don't want to lie on my hallway carpet and wail. I don't want to collapse with grief on the inside and the outside. In order to do that, I have to believe my #shotgun is going to be the 30% that makes it. That she'll celebrate my milestone birthdays with me. That we will do another road trip. That we will bounce innuendos off each other that makes it seem like we rehearsed it. 

I don't know if I'm doing it right. I need to acknowledge the bad news, but I don't want to right now. I just need to be that person for her. 

I really don't know if I'm doing it right. I don't know if I can do it again, I don't want to lose my best friend. I don't want to be a mess again. An angry inconsolable mess. That collapsing on the floor, rocking back and forth, crying at everything mess. Looking for blame everywhere, kicking out at everything. Making poor life choices. 

Where we were

 It's hard not to think where I was two years ago. I think when I've had a year that's not done a lot, it's easy to go 'right two years ago...' 

And two years ago, Suzy and I finished our road trip along the Garden Route, it was such an amazing day. Started with the most stunning sun rise - I don't think I've ever seen one like it before or since - it was just magical. We meandered and speeded, went off the beaten track, had a proper SA breakfast complete with boerewors, drove through the burning of much weed. The last time I had driven that route, Connor and I had a near death experience, so it was good to face that fear and shriek with the exhilaration of nothing happening. 

Suzy and I sang badly and laughed loudly and put the world to rights. I so loved showing off 'my' country to one of my bests. And we were ill, we were not very healthy at all - and that had nothing to do with the amount of wine we had consumed. Yet we laughed so much and I think had this unspoken agreement that nothing (not even stomach flu) was getting in the way. 

One of my best memories came from the day before when we were amusing ourselves and feeling very smug that all our ducks were in a row for our trip ahead. All of a sudden I realised it was Sunday and South Africa operates differently to the selling of wine/booze on a Sunday. Cue much shrieking and diving into the nearest supermarket/bottle store we could find. We bought the BIGGEST bottle of wine I have ever seen. 

Around this time two years ago, we made it to Cape Town and the mountain was showing off, we saw a divine sunset and decided our booked accommodation was shite. It had to be the worst advert ever. It boasted a view of the mountain and the sea. Once there we realised that the balcony was two planks of wood and the view was about two centimetres if you craned your neck around a corner. Thankfully, booking.com had an opening at a fabulous place which was perfect for us. 

This day two years ago, I cried with laughter. I so wish Suzy and I get to do that again, road trip and laugh along the Garden Route (with Sarah). So much has changed since that day. I do believe that if we knew then what we know now, we'd have meandered a bit more. 

The links

 I do believe in the freaky things that happen. The things that there are very little answers to. 

And I believe she's sent me another sign. Another friend to keep me sane. 
It's just too much of a coincidence for me to think otherwise. Especially when I'm where I am, emotionally and mentally. 
They have a name in common (spelt the same), they have the same natural curls and the same relationship with said curls. They have much in the way of artwork. And have laughs that would make a vicar blush. Hugs that are of the strong variety. 

I believe she's sent me her to help me out (if I should need it and I'm not accepting that I might). 

And it doesn't matter if this is not the case, it just matters that I think it. 

Maybe I just gravitate to these sorts of women to be friends with, but my girl inner circle is small. Not many get in and stay in. But her and her N are just the loveliest and special of people, so they've got an in. Oh I just got another link... N & C. oh stop it! :) 

With N we spoke on the phone for ages before we met but there was this 'oh there's a gal I'd like to be friends with' - she's got the guts and the bravery and the shared likes in music and stuff. But you always think (or maybe that's me) or question why someone cool would ever do the friendship dance. Oh yes, there's a dance - generally involving awesome music, a field and tequila (or similar). 

Ah I like these gals. They're good sorts. 

Thank you my 1313, you've done well.