Love should be forever.  It makes me sad to see people celebrating divorce.  Not that I don’t believe in divorce, per se’, it’s just sad that it happens is all.  Maybe it comes from me being a child out of a broken home, but divorce is not a nice thing. It’s saying goodbye to broken homes, dreams and relationships.  It’s a death of something once looked forward to.  It’s washing away memories of a life shared with another human being.  I just feel that marriage is meant to be commitment to the person you love, for the rest of your life.  It’s sad that sometimes it doesn’t work out that way.  The closet romantic in me cries a sad little howl at the sadness of love ending.  It turns out that I may just be naive on this, I suppose.

Friendships are hard.  Especially when you fight like sisters.  Hell, I don’t even fight with my sisters like I do with some of my friends.  What’s worse though, not saying anything and letting all the hurt build up inside?  I’m grateful for my friends, even though sometimes I forget to tell them or show it.  Britt and Flea are a testament to how thoughtless I can be sometimes, and I hope that all of my friends realize that even though I’ve been in my own world, I love them very much.  I suppose it goes back to what I said in a protected post I wrote not long ago.

I suppose that’s all I really wanted to say.  I’ll end off with telling you that I’ve just had my monthly wax *insert expletives here*. On the up side, my face is totally rosey (read: red and blotchy).  But I’m BEAUTIFUL, no matter what they say…

Dating a Jew never gets old.  There are so many culture and religious beliefs, myths, expectations and traditions that I can never get bored.

Last year this time Jon and I were still very new and shiny, so I didn’t really get too involved in what I now know as Yom Kippur.  I remember him saying “oh it’s like the Sabbath of Sabbath’s, really, and a whole bunch of family time and shul attendance” and I was all “ah, fine, um, see you around when it’s over then”.  This year, I’m quite a bit more involved – I mean, things are sort of more serious now, you know?  He’s gone from “the dude I’m dating” to “the guy I share my life with”, so it’s only right that I give some of his religious traditions very serious attention and a tiny bit of questioning:

On getting married and being a Jewish Wife: But why would any of these chicks wear a wig? Seriously, it’s because “uncovered natural hair is considered as seductive”?  What.the.fuck.  Not my hair, without my GHD I look like a gollywog.

On the Day of Atonement (aka: Yom Kippur [sidenote: the day where Jew's are not allowed to physically exert themselves in any way, this includes picking up a TV remote and flicking channels or switching lights on or off.  I know, they're weird]):

Me: What do you mean you’re not allowed to “do anything”?  WHAT?  You unscrew the fridge’s light bulb?! You tape down light switches too?  YOU TURN YOUR PHONE OFF??!! Holy Jesus Moses cow.  So if I broke down on Leslie road, you wouldn’t be able to come help me?

Jon: No.

Me: What if I broke down with an engine failure instead of a flat tire?

Jon: No, couldn’t help you.

Me: What if I broke down with an engine failure, in Soweto, at night, on a Saturday, outside a soccer stadium with lots of drunk football hooligans?

Jon: Um.

Me: What if I slipped in the shower and was bleeding from the hip?

Jon: Errrr.

Me: What if I slipped in the shower, holding your baby, bleeding from my head and hip and the baby was starving?

Jon: You’re so weird.

[We eventually settled on: if my life is in danger, he would help me.  What a Jew!]

On porking through a hole in the sheets: He hadn’t even heard of this until he met me.  Most disappointing. EDIT: Apparently he now claims to have heard of it before me, but says that it is a fallacy. Pffft. Whatevs!

On Jewish Kaparot*: Omfg.

So yes, never a dull moment.  However, let it be known, as much as I don’t understand (despite trying to) some of his religion’s beliefs, I very much love that JewBoy.  From the heart of my bottom.

To all of my other Jews (friends and readers alike) Shana Tova to one and all, Happy Jew Year, God praise the Queen, long live the King and Hail Mary too (Just in case you’re not Jewish but want to be well-wished too, I cater for everyone’s needs on this blog).

*For the record, Jon vehemently denies having anything to do with this, and says that he’s never experienced this in person, and that apparently he doesn’t even know if it’s practiced in SA.  But it’s a valid Jewish Tradition.  I’m just saying.

PS: I sent this post to Jon to ensure he approved (I do that, you know, sometimes.  If I’m writing about him he’ll always know the context before it goes live.  I call this procedure “Being an Awesome Girlfriend: Check!”) what I’d written and he chose the opportunity to give me a grammar class.  If it had it its own way, it would have me using terms like “i.e.” and “as such” etc.  Never again!

1. When watching a movie together, he will insist that is isn’t falling asleep despite his eyes literally crossing over.  And when I don’t give up accusing him he frowns at me and then glares at the TV in a great attempt to frown his eyes awake again.  The poor, squint & stubborn bastard.
2. Yesterday he skyped me all excited-like because he had a great idea: he was scanning all his invoices so he could save them to his Google Docs.  Who knows why a good old file folder isn’t good enough these days, he wants them with him.  Along with his Life To-Do List, so he “has access to them everywhere”, apparently.
3. He eats Take Away’s with a knife & fork, on a plate.  The worst part?  He’s got me into the habit now too!  Gone are the days of a quick KFC burger on the run, out the box.  Oh no – we must wait until we get home, place them on crockery and eat with cutlery.  Have you ever?
4. He brushes his teeth in the shower.  With warm water.  The first time I saw that I nearly plutzed.
5. He insists on wearing a belt with his board shorts.  Now, I dunno about you bru, but I’m from Durban – that shit is not kosher.
6. He will not believe me when I tell him that God can’t see through his roof on cloudy days when I make bacon.  He’ll stare lovingly at my bacon bits and nibble distractedly on his chicken rations but won’t even take a nibble of my bacon, even though I know he wants to with every pump of his bleeding Jewish heart.
7. Our pillow talk last weekend was on the iPad.  Post-coital iPad talk, I swear to God.  The weirdest thing?  When we realized half way through the conversation, we canned ourselves and carried on discussing the very important topic.
8. His life mission at the moment is to kill every last ant that followed us back in the car from our camping trip a few weekend’s back.  He then shows me the dead ant proudly, much like my cat does when she displays her dead rodent presents on my pillow at night.
9. Every time I’m reading something, be it on Twitter or a book, if I giggle at all I have to stop what I’m doing and explain to him what is so funny.  Same goes if I express exclamation at the plot on TV, I have to explain the entire story line up until that moment and then answer any follow up questions until he understands.  Most of the time I’ll get a glazed look from him, but he’s not satisfied until he knows what I found giggle worthy and he’s rubbed my cheek and shaken his head at me.
10. He likes to listen, not watch – just listen, to me playing Lara Croft.  Apparently it’s “fun” hearing me encourage her up a wall verbally and I’m entertaining when I apologize to Lara for killing her.

He’s a funny old chap, my boydude.  But I kinda like him this way.

I love that I can be myself, say what I want, wear my pyjamas at seven o’clock on a Friday night, have alone time with other boys, talk on the phone to my friends for hours while he sits on the couch trying not to listen in and ultimately I love that I don’t ever have to change who I am to suit him or his needs.

He just lets me be.  And that’s all I ever ask. He’s super fantastic.

I love him more than all the red ones* in the world.

* private in-joke.

Ps: don’t forget to vote for your winners in The Nerdies 2010.  The final round is here and closes on Friday.

You see, the thing is, I don’t think you really get how much you get me.  Or how much you have me.  In the random Saturday afternoon naps, when you nap and I don’t, or the late night Friday nights when you sleep and I don’t, I listen to you breathing next to me and I’m at peace.

I’m at peace with the way you accept me, for nothing less than who I am.  And I love the way you can laugh with and at me, but never make me feel any more silly than I already am.

I’m so happy you’ve let me in.  To your home, your heart and your life.  And even though we fight nice, we’re nice nice too – as infuriating as it might be to all our friends, I love that we make other people want to vomit.

Yeah, I’m still pissed that you turned me into a soft and mushy girl when all I’ve ever been was a non-mushy, no nonsense non-girl, but I kind of like who I am when I’m around you.

It’s pretty cool that I get to hang out with you whenever we have a spare moment, and that mostly you WANT me to.

Also, I love that you have agreed to PVR Grey’s for me when I’m not around and that you sat watching Idols with me on Sunday, even though you hate it but couldn’t resist why I was laughing so much at all the auditions.

Mostly, thank you for your unending support, encouragement and the opportunity to fall utterly in love and in like.

You can stay, Noj**.

* I totally just made that word up right now.

** Jon, backwards.

You never know if it’s a good idea or not, as you’ve been hurt before, you’re scared of it happening again, you fight your inner negativity constantly and you pray to pencils that this time you’re wrong, this time he means it, this time its not empty words or broken promises or unfulfilled expectation.  You ignore all the warning signs of impending doom and gloom and you keep telling yourself that it will all be okay, you’re a team, you’re not going to fuck out.  Because this time it’s different.

Love knows no bounds, no creed, no class, no colour and no distance.  It doesn’t care if you’re not interested, or have no inclination or even desire for it, if it decides that you are next on its list, love will accost you my friend, like a long lost S.T.D. floating out at sea just looking for some pirate to infect and desist the use of any genital appendages.

Love is being only ten minutes away from someone but it feels like a lifetime.
Love is waiting a week or a year or only a minute to find out what that kiss will be like.
Love is a mixture of ten million things that leaves you with a weird taste in your mouth that you’re not quite sure if you like or not.
Love scares the fuck out of me, but I have so much of it right now.

Even though the worst thing is that with love, comes goodbyes.  And the saddest thing of all about goodbye’s, is that you have to do them over and over again every day when the person you love is not there.

Ultimately, Love is all of the above being embraced because for every ten million minutes of agony you will surely go through there will be one pure, blissful second where everything will be right with the world and more importantly, in the heart that you so often deny.

My knees buckled.  "You’re dead! How did you get here?"

Nonchalantly, as if this happened on a daily basis, "SheBear I came back to you, it was horrible there and very boring"

"Drew, its impossible.  You died.  I have to be dreaming.  Why are you here?"

"You’re not dreaming SheBear, I’ve come to make you a Mommy again.  Kiera is with me"

He moves out the way, and right behind him stands a little girl with red hair and blue eyes clutching onto the teddy bear that I had given her four years previously, a teddy bear that at that moment was safely locked away in a cupboard nowhere near here.  "Heyo Mommy – I mithed you"

I jump off the bed and back away, Andrew, my dead boyfriend, is standing in front of me holding my dead daughters hand, and smiling. 

Suddenly, way before I even wanted them to, they fade away and I open my eyes to the sound of thumping floor boards above me.

I’m not sure if it was a dream or a nightmare.  I’m still cold inside.  All I do know, is that it left me with goosebumps on my arms and a smile on my lips.

—————————————————————–

PS: Today will be my last blog post for a while. At least a week. Don’t you fuckers forget me, you hear? I will be taking a little break (unwillingly – see bitch about laptop issues earlier this week) so don’t be shy about your visitations while I’m gone. It’s weird to think the next time I will be writing will be in Cape Town.

I hate vaalies who come here and take over the bloody coast line and walk around looking like lobsters with peroxided hair saying ‘fank you’.

I hate having to curb my spending.

I hate not being able to park in my parking lot at work.

But I love Silly season.  I love the vibe.  I love going to a club and having to wait at the bar while talking to strangers and having drinks being bought for me.  I love the beach weather we’re having. I love being a local here where every second, third and fourth car has a GP registration.

I don’t even mind the ‘fank you’s’ that much.

Merry Christmas everybody.  I hope Santa spoils you rotten. 

I wish that I could share my love with two very special people who are no longer here with me.  Kiera and Andrew, I will be thinking of them both tomorrow. 

As a child I remember thinking how brave she was flying all over the world by herself as an airhostess, leaving her children and husband behind, she really did have to cope alone most of the time. Yet she has also always seemed so glamorous, and “put-together”. My step daddy, Kev, and I always joked that LouLou Bell is the sane one out of four sisters. She is the sister that all the other sisters look up to and go to for advice, and I have always wondered how she was so normal, despite being part of our family.

Together we would all be screaming and joking and teasing eachother, smoke and drinks in hand, passing on tales of woe’s me and feeling sorry for ourselves because of one bad event or another, and LLB would calmly console you, giving you enough confidence in yourself to know that this, too, shall pass, and that no matter how bad things got, there was always someone else worse off than you.

On a sensitive note, I went through a very rough incident a few years ago, and despite my mom holding my hand throughout my time of need, LLB was the one who really helped me as she’d gone through the same situation. We stayed in her beautiful home for the weekend while I recovered and it was she who suggested that I write my feelings down in order to help me deal with my reality of that time. Come to think of it, that was probably the start of my passion for, and dream of becoming an author of non fiction stories. I will never forget that weekend, or what I did to myself to get me where I was, but most of all, I will never forget how my aunt helped me through it.

In the last two years, things have changed drastically. I have watched LLB change physically, mentally and emotionally. She met a man, and she decided city life was no longer for her so she moved here, with the boyfriend. Seeing her for the first time in a long while, I hardly recognised her. Her natural hair colour was showing at the roots, her nails were broken, she was covered in bruises and the strong independant woman I once knew, was no longer. She walked on eggshells around her boyfriend and immediately we could all see the severity of her relationship with this man.

There are many events that I could write about to indicate how cruel and harsh the toll of their relationship was on my aunt, but suffice it to say, she lost her self image, had no confidence whatsoever and doubted every person who had ever loved her. Who could blame her? This man had abused her in the worst degree possible, and was continuing to do so. He would accuse her of sick and disgusting things and all she could do was cry. For months it carried on until one day, the police had been called so many times they refused to come out and help her. Shortly after this, a decision was made that she’d had enough.

Slowly I saw traces of my aunts strength coming back, in just the small things such as how she was prepared to drive a little scooter in order for her not to rely on anyone else for transport, or the way she made her home so beautiful and filled with a loving touch that is apparent to anyone who walks into it, the way her adopted animals adore her, follow her every move and present her with a gift each time she comes home in the form of a leaf.

Despite being threatened, begged, bribed and even forced to stay with her now ex boyfriend, she has stayed strong enough to go at this life alone and make something of herself once again. For the first time in many, many months her will to live and positivity is shining through. She lights up a room with her smile, and I know without a doubt that she will make it through this, if she hasn’t already. It makes me so happy to call myself her neice.

Loulou, you make us all proud, you are so brave and you’ve done so well. Thank you for being an inspiration to me and every other abused or unhappy person out there. You have proved the saying, ‘if its meant to be, it’s up to me’.

I love you.