26
A million miles…
There’s this thing going round and round my head lately: he always knew you’d get here.
When Kiera died, he told me not to worry – that only good things could come from this. I was so angry. So hurt that someone could belittle my heartbreak and my confusion and my depression and my i-don’t-want-to-go-anywhere-or-see-anyone. He said: Sheen, you’ll be fine. Because you’re so strong and intelligent and better than this.
Well I wasn’t. And I didn’t wanna be. And I wanted to tell him to fuck right off because nothing could be stronger than this feeling of utter despair. Nothing would ever be greater than my new found title of once-mommy. And I now realize I was completely wrong and he was completely right.
Because although he’s a million miles away now, I’m a million miles away from that place. Where I wanted to die and hide and run away. I’m a million miles from regretting my daughter was born, a million miles from crying myself to sleep. A million miles from never wanting to see, hear, touch or smell babies. A million miles from being eighteen, scared and consumed with feeling alone. A million miles from being the only person like me. A million miles from never belonging. A million miles from doubting everything that my mouth verbalizes.
Because he knew.
He knew all along that I would grow, find my feet, follow my dreams. And now that I have, I want to say that I am a million miles more than thankful he knew me so well. Because, from recording me singing as a child into his stereo to now reading this blog and marveling at where I’ve arrived, I want you to know you were right, Oom Koobie.
You said that one day you’ll watch me fly. I want you to know that day has come.
I love you.
I miss you.
23
Oxsents.
One thing about being South African that I love is the different ways we all speak. Yeah we’re all from the same country, but have you noticed how many accents we have?
Blade from Caaaape Town, mayan: So like, ja hey, I climbed the mowwwwntin this Ay Em. It was awesome, duuuuude.
Cedric from Soweto, but the larnie MINI Cooper driving kind: Eish marrra, ncho nchi click click isiZulu her ayaass wuz FLY, dawg. [See what I did there? The way they mix up the languages to confuse both English and Zulu people? The poor dutchmen, they don't stand a fucking chance!]
Klein Fanie from Pofadder: ohkay okes, I is coming to you live now frrrom de local pos kantoor, where we are looking wiff Meneer van Vollenhoven at the verry nice free lady womens who is offering you pos stampings for your onvelopes at only two ront ninenty free cents. And one free koeksuster cooked by Yolandie Swanepoel en haar Ma. Like in, kom net aan, it is sommer being just a joke.
Michael from Bryanston: Oh my wordy word, have you seen the new Puma sale going down in Sandton City, darl? It is sssimply amazzzing, lovely honey sweetie pie. Euw my gawd – I just want to plutz! Get there now. Just go. No, just drop your things and go. Now. It’s a mussst sssee, forgoodnessakesss.
Donnie Be Cool, from Durban: Yussus, bru, the waves today are fucken epic hey, have you been out hey, you really should catch one hey. Oath – you’ll be one with the dolphins and shit hey. And then we can catch a brewski at Taco Zulu on Florida and check for chicks before we go to Virgin Active to chow some weights hey.
I have met at least five of all of these characters, and any South African will agree with me. And if they don’t, or your name is Klein Fanie and you’re from Pofadder, well… you can’t blame me for your parents delusions of grandeur, or lack thereof. But I’ll disclaim an apology here just in case.
Because the last thing anyone wants are a bunch of angry Klein Fanie’s from Pofadder running around.
23
This card, along with a very porno gift wrapped in a box & a green ribbon…
arrived at my desk this morning as I walked into work. Thanks Cath, you bloody nutcase. My team are in hysterics.
Posted via email from if these (posterous) walls could talk…
22
A quick catch up.
So I never really got a chance to tell you about Valentines Day. Lemme just say that it was awesome. We both cheated, we were both cheesy. You can make fun all you like, but I loved it.
I created little photo print outs with – hold yourself – poems and pictures of us on them, with clues at the bottom. In my defense, the poems were funny as hell and not completely moosh. The clues sent Jon around the house hunting for more clues which ended in the bedroom. Where we, uh, had tea. And I was given a fake beaded rose. Nawww. Jon knows I hate receiving real flowers – to me they’re just so much prettier and useful on the bush they grew on, not wrapped in cellophane. Anyway, he bought a beaded rose in true Hoburg style, from a dude at a street corner. Nice.
I’d planned a day of maize hunting. There’s this little place in the middle of nowhere that grows huge maizes, complete with the earth elements in different sections, and a general knowledge quiz to guide you through the pathways. But after we’d had breakfast and showered and stuff, the skies opened up and started raining something terrible. So we did what every other couple in Hoburg decided to do, and went to the mall to watch a movie. You know that new flick Valentines Day? Yeah, we didn’t watch it. We saw Invictus instead. Oh my hairy toenails! What an emotive and inspiring movie. I felt myself welling up with pride and sighing every five seconds – I highly recommend you go see it before it gets off the big screen. Even if it’s to listen to the terrible South African accents done by Morgan Freeman and Matt Damon.
It’s week 2 of my kick bum job. I’ m loving it hey, but that’s a whole ‘nother blog post on its own. In the meantime, catch me up on you guys – I haven’t had time to read any blogs, so I dunno what’s going on out there in the cyber world.
18
Dynamite Comes In Short Packages
I’d love to say “small packages” but I’m not really small, weight wise…
This week I’ve had a few surprise visits from people online who’ve heard I’m at Aqua now. Some of them I’d met before, briefly, others I’d only interacted with online. What’s prominent in most of the people I meet in person for the first time is their surprise at my size.
For one, most of them don’t know I’m a chubby – this is okay as I don’t often broadcast it [what woman does?] but what I really get a kick out of is their badly hidden shock at how short I am. “I totally imagined you as much… bigger” is something not unheard of. I’ll laugh and say “oh, you know, dynamite and packages and all that”. And then I’ll walk away somewhat confused. What is it about my online persona that gives off such different vibes to what I look like in person?
But then I thought about it. I do the very same thing. When I met ExMi for the first time in real life we went for coffee with her kid at The Pavillion in December about three years back. She was so much shorter, only a head taller than me. And she wore a skirt. I’d never imagined her to be the skirt type. And her voice was much deeper than expected, but somehow suited her personality perfectly. ExMi is chilled, she is relaxed. Why should her voice not be?
And then of course there’s Cath. This woman of women who spent most evenings on the phone with me discussing life in general for about a year before I met her face to face. She is so loud, so verbose, so brash and funny and out there. Yet when you meet her in person you almost over look her completely due to being of hobbit size proportions, except skinnier. She’s this little person that shocks everyone she meets because she’s so small. Another thing I never expected was her pure energy. Jesus that woman will tire out a world cup rugby team in three hours, let me tell you. A night out with her is a night out to remember, one involving sausages and trash cans, lost dignity and waking up to a car filled with illegally removed stop signs.
So my point is, just because we come across a certain way online – it doesn’t mean that’s necessarily all we have to us. Agree?
16
The Nerdies 10 Auction Bid Results
Posted via email from if these (posterous) walls could talk…
