Goodbye and good riddens

Well another year is coming to an end. All I can say is... fuckkit! What a year.

I have never been so glad to see a year go by and finish. 2009 has definitely been a year of ups and downs for me.

This year I suffered with some depression. Something that ate a big part of my spirit. Due to the depression I had to end a 2 year relationship. I needed the space to grow and recover. It still hurts and I still refuse to see me ex. But hey, the world is full of people. I really don’t need to look back when I’m pushing through life’s obstacles so I can move forward.

Then I found myself surrounded by a new group of friends. After being alone and losing “relationship friends” I found my own circle of friends. They are the most awesome, fun and crazy people I’ve ever met.

Thank you to all of them for making my 2009 fun and exciting.

This year I met someone who came into my life quickly and left very abruptly as well. Even though our friendship was short lived, he will remain a big part of my past and his influence will leave a very bit foot print in my life.

I found a job where I am very happy in. I work with a great bunch of people and have a great boss. In my future I doubt I will ever have a boss as understanding and patient as him. Thank you boss for restoring my faith in bosses.

This year I have learnt how my emotional rollercoaster of a mind works and I am still learning to control it. One day I will be able to and hopefully things will go smoother.

2009 was difficult, fun, sad, new and topsy turvy.

But through it all I have survived and pulled through. I little scarred and a lot stronger.

Please 2010 come soon and bring on more learning curves but a lot less drama and heartache.

Protective Killer instinct

So I woke up at 3am with the house alarm going off.. Then I heard my dad shouting "the bastard is jumping over the wall" then the phone rang, it was ADT.. My mom was shouting there's an intruder!!

My dogs were going crazy.. Except for patch, who was sitting practically on top of me totally stiff.

As I sprained my ankle the day before I hobbled out of my room into the lounge. To find my mom smoking anxiously in the kitchen with a pale face, then my dad came back inside holding a panga.

Then ADT came. They were so fast with their response. Wow! Big ups to them!

What happened was the dude had jumped my neighbour’s wall into our front yard...My dad had forgotten to lock the side door to the garage... When the guy opened it, it set off the alarm.

My dad heard this and jumped up went to the window and saw him run and jump over the front wall...

Thanks dad! All those days sleeping out in the bundos paid off, listening out for lions. My dad had heard the guy open the gate but thought it was the wind.

Funny sight was my dad, still half pissed running outside in his boxers with a huge panga…

Was also amazing to see my dad’s protective killer instinct kick in…

Go dad!

Relationshit.. needs no definition

Barbie and Ken, Bill and Hillary, Brad and Angelina.. All couples.. Whether they are just dating, married, engaged or bound together by history they are all in a relationship.

There are many types of relationships. Long-distance, long-term, casual, serious, open relationship, everlasting. In the end the most important thing about a relationship is whether it is a happy relationship or a sad/bad relationship.

Sure every relationship has their problems, their ups and downs. But when does one decide to call it quits?

Do we need an excuse, a reason or an incident?

Do you weigh up the good times vs. the bad times? What keeps us in a relationship?

I think its denial… people don’t have the balls to admit that they are not in a happy relationship.

I thought of a new word the other day and I think it sums it up pretty well…

If you are stuck in a relationship and you can’t decide what to do, how to do it, or if you just are a plain idiot and can’t be brave and assertive for once.

Ask yourself.. Am I in a relationship or in a relationshit? Yes relationshit…

I don’t think this new word of mine needs a definition…

If its shit.. Get out. Life is far too short and fabulous to be having a shit time. The party’s started and you’ve missed round one of free drinks!

SCOLLYWOOD

Movies have been around since TV came into the world. A history teacher once told me that all movies are based on a story from history. Whether it be five months ago or fife hundred years ago. All movies are stories which happened. (Except fictional fantasy ones with dragons, unicorns and flying sharks) But you get the point.

Being a South African, I was so chuffed to hear that we are making movies and are starting to shine in the industry of Hollywood. To know that the big fish out there know where South Africa is and they know our history and they are making movies about Hansie, Apartheid, and Mandela. Yey! But those movies are made by American director and producers. Just the storyline is South African.

I was so disappointed when I watched my first homegrown movie. Then the next one. Then the next one. They are all based around South African gangsterism.
Always with the drugs, money, prostitution, the good gang member that gets killed, the evil club owner and the street kids.

Sure it’s great that these issues are being exposed but would it really hurt South African film makers to do a romantic film where it doesn’t involve colour issues, drugs and sex?

The Indians do it and look how successful Bollywood is. They do musicals and culture based movies. The nice part of their culture.
Don’t get me wrong, it’s good to do a little Oprah or Carte Blanche and expose the terrible truths about society but for goodness sake, do something different.
We are supposed to be hosting the 2010 World cup. If FIFA sees any of our homegrown movies and only sees gangsterism and racism there aint no chance in hell any soccer stars are coming here.

Our movies are putting out a negative impression of gangster land South Africa. Our beauty should extend the travel channel and onto the movie channel. Hollywood and Bollywood are exceeding us at a fast pace.
I can just see the foot of Table Mountain right now, with those famous letters in bold white, welcome to SCOLLYWOOD.

Happiness is only a pill away

At some point in every person’s life, they feel down. I don’t think there is a single person out there who has always been happy all of the time. If there is, and you are reading this. Please give me whatever you are on.

I read in the media some time ago, that Tom Cruise slammed Brooke Shields for taking anti-depressants after the gave birth and suffered from the baby blues- post-natal depression.

Who does Tom think he is? He has no estrogen, or FSH or any other female hormones. How can he understand the baby blues and condemn mothers for using happy pills?

Brooke Shields took anti depressants. Other people drink to take their problems away. Other people use drugs, have promiscuous sex or they go sky diving or end their own lives. Everyone deals with depression in a different way. Depression being, manic, bipolar, chronic or just PMS. Depression is depression no matter what word quacks put in front of it.

The problem in “curing” or “aiding” your own depression is to ensure that you self sooth for only a short time and not turn the remainder of your life into a pity party and focus only on feeling better.

But for the short period of self soothing, self medicating. I fully support it.
If people went to doctors for everything, they would be poor, doctors would be rich and we would be weak people. I’m not saying don’t go to a doctor, all I’m saying is try help yourself first. You can discover your own strengths and weaknesses while doing this.

If you do decide to go the medical way and not the self destructive route. Or the unconventional medicinal way. Don’t be ashamed of it. Speak openly to your doctor and he or she will give you a little something to put your mind at ease.

Its perfectly normal for human beings to feel down. Even animals feel down. Elephants are highly emotional creatures. Dogs and dolphins are sensitive. Heck you know a dolphin has feelings when they are the only animals that pomp for pleasure.
Wolves howl and cry when a pack member dies. Vultures and most bird species are loyal to only one mate for their entire lives. If their mate dies, they are down.

Everyone has feelings and we can all have smiley faces all the time. Unless you have had botox and you have a permanent smile. If not, take a happy pill and smile away your problems.

Happiness is only a pill away.

Things guys know we do but won’t admit we do it, when it comes to beauty and ladylike behavior.

We wax/shave the hair on our big toes.
We have to show the beautician (waxing lady) our lady bits so she can wax it.
When we wax our under arms, bikini line, VJJ, it bleeds.
We have moustaches which we remove.
We sit with gum guards on filled with teeth whitener.
We squeeze our pimples and black heads, and if given the time we try find every black head possible.
After we have shaved, if in the bath, the bath has a dark ring around it full of tiny bits of dark hair.
We do pick our noses.
We do fart
We sometimes pee if we laugh too hard.
We can burp loudly.
Our hair can get really greasy and smelly if we don’t wash it.
One day well have hairs on our chins.
We look at the tissue when we use it. (everyone does that)
We probably wont do all these things in front of you.

Porn to be wild??

I recently read an article in a certain women’s magazine. I won’t mention it, but if you know me, you will know that it’s a magazine which I like to read but would never work for, as I feel it has no substance, formalness, thought-inducing or emotion driving journalism. Never the less, it’s a magazine which I happen to come across at home.

I was so surprised when I found an article which I could relate to. As I read it I thought, wow, they really are growing up and catering for a woman with a brain. YEY!! I felt that this article was for me. I was so happy to have found a piece of reading material which tugged at my heart strings.

A few pages later, all my dreams were shattered and my heart was broken again. Probably due to the editorial authority of the publication in question.
As soon as I started enjoying the article, another typical article popped up and went back to giving that magazine its old typical vibe.

The article was about sex, where women wrote in to comment about their experiences and what they did in order to cause some arousal with their partners.
One thing that struck me was that many of these women would use porn stars as inspirations. They all felt that, if they did this, and did that, they felt sexy “like a porn star”

Reading this, conjured up some of my thoughts. Women look down on sex workers, strippers and basically any living female whom resembles a higher level of beauty and sexuality than them. (Yes ladies we all do) (Have you ever met a straight woman who feels comfortable standing next to a sexual goddess?)

Anyway, so we look down on those overly sexual women. We moan or get in a tizz when our partners watch porn, or if they comment on how hot Jessica Alba looks. But yet when in the sack, we try to perform like porn stars, and we only feel sexy when we are behaving like a porn star.

I doubt that while a porn star is doing her thing, she is really enjoying it, and feeling loved and having the best emotional intimate connection of her life. Call is cliché, but I tend to think that sex workers are in it for the money? (Excuse the pun) Maybe they enjoy the attention, but at the end of the day, she still has to sleep with men, she doesn’t know, doesn’t love and he won’t call her in the morning for a second date.

Yes but it’s her job. Is probably what you’re saying. Yes it’s her job. To perform like sex is what she lives, breathes and sleeps. She does this so that your partner can get off by himself, those lonely nights when you have a headache or when the reconstruction or your uterus lining is taking place.

Sure the likes of Jenna or Brianna have made them mega stars but that’s only two. I suppose the thought of you being a mega star in your partner’s memory as the best porn style performance is an achievement in the mind of some.

Sure people use porn as ideas and inspiration of sorts. But I find it so ironic that we look down on sluts. Yet in the bedroom we behave like sluts. Perhaps it’s a new thing to be a bedroom slut but a lady outside of the bedroom. That probably what every man wants. If so, and if women are going to conform to this then maybe society should wake up and delete those derogatory names which women are called.

Perhaps publications should pay attention to what they are putting out there. Adults are just big children. You give them ideas and they will do. Give kid’s dolls that have huge puffy lips, thin waists and wear high heels and your 7 year old will want to dress the same. Give adults some movies, some lace, maybe a rope and guess what you will get.

Yes but they are adults. They know what they are doing. Do they? Do adults not think for themselves? Instead of our reading materials teaching us how to recycle and save water. How to help save the pandas and how to sort out real life issues, they teach us how to be a porn star and how to have great sex. Having great sex isn’t the answer to anyone’s problems.

After your grand performance, you will still have debt. That man could still leave you. Your boss still won’t like you. Your car still won’t have petrol and that rash will still be there.

I just think that in life there are far more important things than feeling, acting and behaving like a porn star. Show your true colours in bed and express what you really feel, how you feel it.

Delete or Keep

Mxit, Facebook, MySpace, Bing, Gmail, Yahoo, MSN. The list goes on. There are so many ways of communicating in today’s world. One thing which is constant with all these modes of communication is that anyone that you communicate with is categorized at either a friend or as a contact- symbolizing that you are friends.

Look at your keyboard. Look to the right. Look at the key number 7, just under the Number lock key. Look three keys left. It should say delete. This is apparently the new F word when it comes to communication.

If someone annoys you or offends you, or if they have you as a friend or contact and they don’t talk to you, you can delete them. Yes Delete. They won’t even go into your recycle bin, they will just be gone forever.

People tend to be really offended by this. People, who are deleted, should stop and think. Why have I been deleted? Instead of getting on their high horse, they should think. “Wow I must have really annoyed this person, that they deleted me”

Take facebook for example, you have +- 500 friends and one person deletes you. You get all upset and hurt over that one person.
Like mxit for example. You have +- 50 contacts. You can’t possibly keep up will all 50 of them. So you tend to chat to only a select few. You delete the one who never talks to you. And one random day, that person decides to add you again and surprise, surprise, they question you till their teeth fall out as to why you deleted them.

It’s not like you’re best friends. But that person will milk you for all you have because you were insensitive and DELETED them. There are worse things that you could have done. You could have blocked them! Wow!! Never block someone. To them it’s like you’ve sent them into exile, along with the other mutes and perverted weirdo’s you blocked.

Is deleting the new way of telling people to bugger off out of your life? In a real life social situation, could you say “delete” to that annoying person at the bar, shop, gym? If you argue with a friend or boyfriend, can you look at them in the eye and say “delete”.

In the past, before all this digital communication, you told people off with your body language and with the tone of your voice or you spelt it out for them. Perhaps people are too used to be let off softly. In subtle ways. With new age communication, we just say yes or no. accept or decline, delete or keep. People are getting straight answers, no nonsense replies and the truth handed them on a gold plate. But no matter how tough they are, no matter how shiny their grills are they can’t handle the hard friend-rejecting truth.

I understand that no one likes to be rejected. But you can’t be expected to like everybody and you can’t expect everybody to like you. I think a communication service where you have all your rejected friends is in order. You could call it notfriends.com. Perhaps they will feel more accepted then. Imagine it, “you deleted me from friends.com” “Yes but I added and accepted you on notfriends.com” “oh okay, phew I almost thought we weren’t friends” (hugs)

How pathetic are we all that we can’t realize that it’s just a website, or it’s just a messaging service and that there is probably a reason for your dismissal.

Mountain, Mountain, burning bright. In the middle of the night.

On Wednesday the 18th of March 2009, at about 1am, Cape Townians who reside on Table Mountain’s foot, woke up with their houses full of smoke, and their gardens covered in ash, a strange burning sound and a massive fire which blazed across the table-like mountain right above their homes. Fortunately no houses were burnt. Only one death so far and a buck which was injured.

Fire fighters have been fighting these raging fires all summer long. All day and all night. Fire after fire. They come out and save us from the hot flames.

Fire fighters risking their lives everyday so save people that they don’t even know. Would you do that?

It’s like on that movie, The Guardian. At the end Bryan Adams sang that song that goes “Can you lay your life down, so a stranger can live?” Ask yourself that question. Could you? Would you be able to fight all elements hot and cold, strong and weak to help save a person? A fellow human being.

How inspiring is that song to you? Where do these people come from? I’m not just talking about fire fighters. I mean Police men and women, Ambulance paramedics, Life Guards, Coast Guards, Disaster Management Workers, and Mountain Rescuers. Everybody who is in a profession where they save lives. Is it adrenalin? Is it humbling? Why do they enjoy it? Is the reward of saving a life enough?

All I can say is that after much thought on the topic. I would like to thank everyone who is in the life saving industry. No matter which field you are in. From saving people, the earth, animals, children, even if you save something that no one talks or knows about.

Well done and thank you! For all you do.

The Devil finds work for Jeyes Fluid

I’m all for being clean and germ free. That’s why I decided to clean our kitchen bin. Not having any Demestos, I went for the next best thing in germ killing, Jeyes Fluid.
Being too lazy to go outside and clean it in the garden with the hosepipe. I decided to clean the bin in the bathroom bath. The light pink, almost white bath.

So there I was pouring almost sinful amounts of the black liquid onto the bin. Scrubbing it with a scrubber. Thinking, hmm, “this smell is very strong, but it’s probably killing all the germs. I scrubbed and scrubbed, watching this black liquid spit all over me, the tiles and the bath.

Eventually came rinse time. I put the water on super hot, to kill any escaping germs and used the shower nozzle. Splash went the water, and the black liquid flowed down the drainage hole. Suddenly I noticed that the black liquid wasn’t disappearing away from the sides of the bath. It just stayed there.

Oh holy sh*t! It’s stained the bath. I rinsed the bin and gave it an extra scrub and also to get the stains off the bin with sunlight liquid. And put it out to dry. I walked back into the bathroom and saw what would be Martha Stewart’s demise. I light pink, almost white bath tub, stained with black liquid.
Stains varied from small spots, to big ones, to straight lines, to big blotches. It could have been an artwork. An artwork of a mess.

I reached over, got the scrubber and sunlight liquid. Its taken me an hour and a half to scrub away the black stains. If you look closely you will see some spots.
Never again will I use Jayes fluid. There is no warning saying “this stains the shit out of anything!” or “don’t use if you’re bored” “I stain” “to be used in black dark rooms that never receive light” nothing.

Good grief. Today I’ve had idle handz and it came in a bottle of Jeyes fluid.

Parents

Everyone has parents. Maybe you’ve never seen them, or met them, but somewhere along the line everybody had parents. Even dolly the sheep.

My parents are in their 50’s and I have met both of them. I still live with them and I communicate with them daily. If I didn’t it would be weird, considering we all live together.

Both of my parents are Portuguese. My dad is the one with the heavy accent.
My parents are not extremely short like other Portuguese people. They have a bit of height on them.

My folks are very typical. If you visit, my mom will try feed you and my dad will try quench your thirst with any form of alcohol he can find in the house.

My dad will tell you about his days back when, and my mom well, she’ll tell you about her day and offer you a shot of something. With a side plate of chicken and vegetables.

My mom will probably play some Portuguese, Mexican or Spanish music and tell you all about the band.
My dad will talk much louder than the music and you are expected to understand everything he says.

If you really can’t understand them, I just suggest you understand the question, “would you like some more?” If you just smile and say yes, you will have a bottomless plate and cup. So I suggest you listen closely.

On an average day, I am summoned to the lounge at least twice because “Dis Teevee doesn’t want work!” Then I have to go inside and turn the volume off mute, or change the channel or something basic and not too technologically advanced.
My mom just calls me to switch it on. No too difficult. For me that is.

Its so strange how my mom cannot operate the TV, DVD and DSTV but she can copy CD’s, shrink DVD’s, sync her ipod, download music, do online banking and operate a washing machine.

I noticed one day that a friend of mine, whose dad is also of European decent, also has an accent and strangely also wears denim shorts, sandals and socks. Just like my dad. I wonder if it’s a foreign thing.

My dad wears clogs too. We are not Dutch; he just wears white ones which sound like high heels when he walks on tiles.
He also like to make things. And blow up things.

One day I came home from the shopping mall. And the house smelt of chemicals. I went to the bathroom and all over the floor were bits of cardboard.
When my dad returned home, he was speaking rather loud and whenever I asked him something, his answer was a loud “huh?!, Què?!”

Turns out my dad decided to blow up the empty Pringles Chips container using fire crackers. But he did it in the bathroom as not to scare the dogs. But the loud blast from the crackers echoed louder than what he expected. For about an hour or so after that, he was partially deaf in his left ear.

Talk about idle hands!

He's just not that into you. A book for all women.

We’ve all heard their excuses. We’ve all heard their lies. And lets just face it, sometimes men are just not that into us. And come on ladies, sometimes we are also just not that into a guy. It works vice versa too you know.

This article will only make 100% sense to the readers who have read the book “He’s just not that into you” by Greg Behrendt and Liz Tuccillo. I read it in 48 hours. It is absolutely liberating and will enlighten us into what men really mean and also show the excuses we make for them when we are in denial.

When our hearts are broken for the first time we make an excuse for our heart breaker. “Its not me its him” “he’s not over his ex” “we had nothing in common” “he is focused on his career at the moment”. All these excuses we make for men leaving us. Lets just face it, when we are not really into a guy, we sometimes use these excuses as well. Truth is, that men would rather die than tell us how they really feel about us, and that they are just not that into us.
Men would rather die than tell us how they really feel..

We know that they are not really that into us but we accept their lies and excuses and move forward by those. But the thing here is that we get hurt every time. Which is not right, we should all read this book and learn the truth under the lies. We should accept them before we fall for men and get our hearts broken when they present us with their most convenient lie or excuse for not wanting to be with us. So that when you meet a man you will be able to judge whether or not he is into you and you can move on unaffected and with a full heart, ready for when you finally meet the man you really is into you. And has no excuses.

If you happy and you know it, shut the f*ck up!

Have you ever woken up one day and no matter how hard you tried? No matter what you did, you just couldn’t get out of bed. And the thought of getting out of bed just makes things worse.

Have you ever felt that the world was just too much and that life is pointless anyway, because you are really just the average person and you will never do anything significant in your life?

Have you ever just wish you hadn’t woken up?

I have.

The world just looks grey. A grey sky that lasts forever. Grey that burns your eyes and makes your heart feel as thought it’s filled with cement instead of blood.
Every breath you take feels like a big sigh and no matter how much air you try to fit into your lungs, they still never fill up completely.

Crying seems pointless. You cry and cry until your eyes burn and your eye sockets throb with pain. You cry so much that it’s not comforting anymore. It’s not that soothing, “everything will be okay” cry. It’s just an empty cry because all hope of a blue sky has disappeared.

Generally you are a positive person. But the positive pump in your brain has broken, and all positive thoughts have stopped being pumped into your brain, because after being so positive, nothing positive really happens. And all you feel is negativity.
Some people think that negativity is an attitude. But when you are so down, you can actually feel negativity. Negativity’s energy is so strong, its borderline dangerous.
It’s stronger than positive energy because it’s just easier to be negative and cynical.

Even your body doesn’t feel the same. You can feel that you are alive but you have a slight numbness to your body. Your body is numb to happiness and positivity. You are totally aware and can feel the sadness. But somewhere along the line, your body decided to increase your sad feelings. It’s like the negativity and sadness has moved from your mind to your body. God only knows how long it will take until it reaches your soul.

You think about that and then even question whether you have a soul. And if you do, what would it look like. Imagine your aura. What colour it would be right now. It probably wouldn’t even have a colour.

You find the dark crevice of your room the most comforting place. After all its where the monster inside you has developed. In your dreams, while you sleep and even while you think. This dark evil and destructive monster you call your mind. The one that controls rational thinking, loving, hating, logical thinking, thoughts, decisions, ideas, happiness and sadness.

The mind is a powerful thing. It can drive you to the edge of reason. It needs to be controlled and disciplined. I guess that’s why it’s kept in a hard shell called the skull. So that we cannot discipline it or hurt it when it hurts us.

Having a grey cloud hovering above you. Seeing only negative things. Remaining in the dark. Never moving toward the light.

It’s sometimes easier to just stay there. Other times someone or something pulls you out of it.

My hands are out; palms open wide, waiting for your grip to pull me out.

My Big Fat Portuguese Family

There are two Grandmothers, two Grandfathers, five aunties, three uncles, thirteen cousins, five-second cousins, one mother and one father. A family not too big, but they are just my family in Cape Town. We are all Portuguese.
We speak, think, eat, drink, party, and pray we even dream Portuguese, believe it or not even our dogs understand Portuguese.

Some people only see their families at special occasions like birthdays, Christmas, New Years, weddings or funerals. Some people don’t really know their families. I see my family every Sunday. We all congregate at my aunt’s house, amazingly I have adapted to phenomena that 150 people could fit into a 50 square feet of yard. At these cookouts, all you hear are the accents of Portuguese people all speaking at the same time and so loud you would think they all swallowed an amplifier. Discussing work, family, business, the harbour, the neighbours and the goings on in Madeira, our homeland. It’s never silent, even when we argue it’s loud.

Usually the men in my family cook an enormous lunch and it’s always something Portuguese. From Clado Verde (Kale Soup), Canja (chicken Soup), Pregos, Espetada, to Bolo de Mel (Honey cake) the men seriously know how to cook Portuguese style and it’s always delectable. And to go with the meal there is always home made bread, which throughout my childhood I thought everyone made their own bread but later discovered its just a Portuguese thing.

In true Portuguese honour what is eating without drinking? Caipirinhas, Sangria, and Poncha, these are our famous beverages, which are always made too strong, never too weak. And you can’t leave out the potent wine, which my uncle makes himself from his backyard. When I was younger, I remember thinking it was normal to squash grapes in huge barrels on a Sunday at my relative’s house. At least I got to drink wine before I was eighteen.

Above the noise of everyone speaking and pots and pans you will always hear the traditional sounds of Portugal coming from the CD player. The famous folk music Fado playing and some aunty will always be singing along. Sometimes we even dance when a truly traditional song plays. Once you have attended a Portuguese wedding you will know all the steps to the dances. I proudly display these dances when socialising with friends and without a doubt myself or my other Portuguese friend will jump up and start singing and dancing to some Portuguese song they have playing in their head. This is after copious amounts of wine.



I’m sure that in every Portuguese family, someone has an antique Portuguese Bible passed down from generation to generation, and nine out of ten times there will always be a picture of some saint as you walk in the front door. There are probably also more religious statues, pictures, crucifixes or shrines in the bedroom, lounge, the study and even in the car. Much more religious replica than in your average house. In my family it’s exactly like that. Crucifixes, pictures, statues, and candles are all on display in nearly every room. And if you cant see the religious item there will always be ten year old palm tree leaves folded into crosses in drawers, in books as book marks or stuck inside cupboards. There are so many collected over the years from each Palm Sunday that you feel bad throwing them away.

The biggest battle with my family is that no one understands what “no thank you” means. My uncles serve a huge meal, and once you are done, you take your plate back to the kitchen, and without argument you will be given a full plate again. “er, av more shpargett! Or “ke tomaches? “ “No thank you” is definitely not in their vocabulary. Especially when it comes to food.
The best is my family believe that every ailment, illness, memory loss and accident is attributed to the fact that you didn’t eat something.

The cool thing is that my Portuguese family and most other Portuguese families surnames all end in a vowel. Most families, including mine have uncles named Jose, Manuel, Fernando or Tony.

Everyone and everything in my family is Portuguese. Even our pet’s names are Portuguese. We watch Portuguese TV; listen to Portuguese radio on the net, even e-mail our Portuguese relatives across the world. It might seem over-whelming and crowded and possibly claustrophobic but in times of need, they are always there. Even if Portugal is playing a serious game of soccer against Brazil and crisis hits, my family, big and loud they are always there for each other. And when needed they will always pitch up in true Portuguese style, with everyone else tagging along.

Duanes Syndrome

Who is Duane? Do I know a Duane? The question you should be asking is what is Duanes?

Duanes Syndrome is a condition which can only be diagnosed after birth and after about 3 years. Within six weeks of being in womb, the sixth cranial nerve which deals with eye movement doesn’t develop properly. Causing irregular or absent abilities to move the eye in certain direction. Type 1, means you cannot move your eye in towards your nose. Type 2 means you cannot move your eye out towards your ear and the third type means you cannot move your eye either way. It sort of just moves slightly both sides but never to the maximum angle that the eye can move.

Being a cranial (brain) condition, nothing can be done to fix Duanes. You can only use technology and tools to make life easier. Approximately only 0.1% of the population has Duanes Syndrome and only 10% of all cases are hereditary.

I have Duanes. At birth I was misdiagnosed as a childhood squint. Which I grew out of.. I also have Amblyopia, a lazy eye is the common name. Having a lazy eye never really bothered me. I always knew my vision wasn’t normal but I always related it to my lazy eye. Now only at 20 I have been diagnosed with Duanes Syndrome Type2.

The disabilities if you would call it that, which I have due to my Duanes (being in my left eye), would be that I cannot see under my left arm to shave it. When putting on make up or tweezing my eye brows I cannot see properly if I close my non-Duanes and strong eye. When I attempt to drive, the left side of the road is a complete blur and turning my head to check a blind spot is impossible for me to do it safely while driving. Because by the time I have turned my entire body around to see if there are any cars behind me, I will have swerved all over the road and probably smashed into a few cars.

If I am tired my lazy eye really looks lazy. If I turn my head sideways and relax my lazy Duanes eye falls in towards my nose. It looks really weird if you see it do that.

I went onto Facebook and found a group of people from all over the world of all ages who also have Duanes or their children have Duanes. It was a great relief to meet other adults who also have Duanes. They each share their stories and give advice on how to cope with Duanes and the simple things you can do to make life a little easier. One woman’s advice for driving was to have extended mirrors so that she wouldn’t have to do the 180 degree turn just to look behind her to change lanes.

I will be seeing an ophthalmologist soon and that will be my judgement day. Bring on the lenses, the torches and the examination board with letters EXDRT! I’m ready to tackle my poor vision once and for all.

Once again, the devil finds work for idle hands, and my hands are not idle..
Cheers for now!

C
xx

About me

I’m usually a very open person. But there is something about the internet that gives me some anxiety when it comes to revealing who I am. It’s not like it’s a secret. I think that from the beginning of the existence of the internet, our parents and the rest of the world have put the fear of god in us, making us think that everyone on the internet is a perverted child abductor or molester. I don’t doubt that there are those perverted sick creatures lurking on the internet, but I think they are a minority. And I doubt they will spend their time reading blogs. Surely they would spend their time searching for what they want. Anyway now that I have semi convinced myself that no perverted people will read my blog or try find me here goes…

I’m in my twenties, almost 21. I live in Cape Town South Africa. I still live at home with my folks and we are very traditional. We are Portuguese. I’ll tell you more about our culture another time.

I’ve always had the dream to be a journalist or a writer. I also wouldn’t mind being a teacher or an actress. But for now I’m following one dream at a time. It would be quite cool if I were an actress/teacher/journalist. I could teach others to act, I could act and when I did a Brittany or an Amy I could do my own PR and write myself a great story to get me out of the lime light. (Make note, great idea)

So I’ve done the whole studying thing and have interned at various Magazines and a newspaper. I pretty much know what to do when I’m put into a magazine environment. I take to it like a fish to water. (Bubble, bubble) At the moment there are no jobs available for journalists. So I have decided to take some time out and start a blog. I will admit this is the first time I’m blogging. I lie in bed at night and think about what to write about the next day. When I watch TV or read a book. I try pick up on things that interest me so I can write about it. Problem is I forget about it. I really don’t want to walk around with a notepad attached to my hip.

I’m not too tall. I’m not too short either. But compared to most girls I would be in the “short” category. My height doesn’t really affect me. I’m quite alright with it. I like wearing heels, there is something about wearing heels that makes me feel so powerful and somewhat in charge. (Could just be short woman syndrome)

I am a dog person. Personally I think cats are a waste of time. Who would want a pet that has no expression, makes no sound and ignores you all the time? Dogs bark, they yelp, the cry. They jump, their tails wag and they generally express how they feel.

I like to wear black. I’m not Goth or anything. I just like to wear black. I also enjoy wearing nail varnish. Any colour is fine.
I am the kind of girl to wear makeup. Depending on my mood and where I am going, my makeup can go from dark Goth, matching purples or a natural earth colour. And yes I even have glamour gold and glitzy pinks. (I probably sound like a drag queen)

I enjoy the fruits from the gods, in a big glass. Wine if you haven’t guessed. I enjoy wine, probably a bit too much but I certainly get my money’s worth when I buy a bottle. (Now I sound like a drunk)

As I am writing this I’m beginning to think perhaps I’ve said too much. And once again my anxiety paranoia has come back. I can already see perverts and child abductors scanning the streets of Cape Town for a short Portuguese looking girl, with drag queen makeup on walking four dogs and drinking from a bottle of wine as she stumbles down the road to her green and red painted Portuguese house.
I better end this "about me" entry before I have to be admitted.

The devil finds work for Idle Hands and I will not be a victim!

Cheers for Now!

C
xxx

Method to my madness

So here I am. Almost 21. 2 years worth of studying under my belt, 4 years of job shadowing and internships and a lifetime of dreams.

Applying for a job is easy. You send your CV along with some sample articles which you wrote way back in college, you click send and wait that painful long wait until someone comes back and says “I’m sorry the position has been filled, we appreciate your efforts and will keep your CV on record for future job openings”
As you can see I’ve received this message way too many times.

Now thanks to the economy and the over spending of the greedy assholes in the world. The only media Mecca in my little town of Cape Town has retrenched 50 percent of their staff, leaving me unemployed and my journalistic abilities dormant in the back of my mind.
Which is why I have chosen to regurgitate it all onto this blog. I don’t care if no one reads it. It would be great if someone would. Maybe there is a society of journalists out there who feel the exact same. Maybe we could all come together and start our own publication. And make our own money.
But for now I’ll settle with this blog.

I will try to share all my thoughts without coming across as an angry, hormonal bitch. If I do, then just accept that I was probably pissed off at the time.
I must warn you though, my thoughts are very random and sometimes they don’t even make sense to me. But just bear with me and accept it.

That’s enough babbling for today. Have a nice day and remember, the devil finds work for idle hands.

Cheers for now!

C