Holicraze

I’m back at it. Swinging into the things, setting alarm clocks and home school lessons, and forcing myself to walk or run or something each morning. Being reminded that even though I lost a lot of friends to the terrible ailment of immigration, there are still some pearler people here in my city.

So in the midst of the annual start of a year, here is a holiday reflection from me to you:

There were days of rest, aka complete lack of movement.

There were days of pools and tans and watermelon, and pretty much living my ‘basic girl’ life (hashtag peace sign)

There were days of Christmas music playing in the background, and Christmas mince pies making the house smell delectable, and cheesy Christmas movies on the TV (reminder to you Northern ‘Hemispheresers’ that we, below the equator, celebrate a summer Christmas)

Beach walks, evening runs, delicious breakfasts, shopping trips and family dinners were ‘smooshed’ in between to make the days seem longer and happier and ‘holiday-yee.’

I got to see friends that I don’t get to see during the year, and family that make me happy. I got to hang out with the coolest younger brother who can make me cry laugh, who is a mean hoola hooper and who will dance with me for hours if the right music is playing (which it always is when we’re around)

At the end of the holiday, we decided that it was about time that my coastal parents met my inland boyfriend (there’s a bigger separation between these groups than you might think). So I spent my last happy days entertaining him, and watching my family grow to like him. (can we all breath a unanimous sigh of relief).

Has anyone ever seen a more attractive photo of me?

To end off my fantastic walk down December holidays lane and photo journey, Boyfrand and I drove back to our respective city. He had to drive the whole way while I cried the whole way. Yes, you read right, I couldn’t stop my fat tears from rolling down my cheeks as I said goodbye to the family and the city that I love most in the world. (The whole ‘doing nothing- but always having food- swimming ad hoc- never having to drive anywhere- end of holiday feels’ may also have been a partial reason…)

Here’s me, making sure that my tear- stained, puffy- eyed face doesn’t ruin the picture

New Year, Stay You

It’s the whole #newyearnewyou epidemic that hits the shores of the world annually.

Thanks to 2019 and dreams for 2020 are overwhelming all social media platforms as I write this.

I had quite a great 2019 with plenty of newly- created memories, firsts, different experiences, and further developing dreams.

As much as I love delving into pasts, happy has- beens, and laugh- inducing photos, my blog post is going to have a look at the year laid out in front of me: empty, clean, undiscovered, waiting for our steps to imprint stories over it.

It’s corny, cliche, and eye- rolling, but u really do believe that there is a place for New Year’s resolutions; it creates a hopefulness for our futures and dreams that we are willing to fight for.

Maybe these resolutions will collapse at the base, but maybe (like I’ve actually done before) I will succeed and plant seeds that will bud and bloom in the future, be it this year or in the years to come.

• Tick off the days on a calendar that you went without processed sugar, and try have more ticked days than unticked (I usually am pretty good with this, but Christmas did dent my 80% processed sugar- free days. I’m quite looking forward to getting back to healthier eating patterns and clean skin)

• Exercise four days a week (I run four mornings a week and follow that up with Kayla Itsiness workouts, which I love, but I am quite keen to switch to Pilates this year for my posture and cyadica)

• Don’t buy meat (after spending the Christmas holidays with my flexitarian parents, the health benefits of this lifestyle have crept into my way of thinking)

• Research and find online job/s to supplement my salary (as a past university student with a current study loan standing like a mountain in front of my dreams, I am desperate to find ways to pay it off as fast as I can)

I hope that you dream big plans and cultivate the strength to see them through. I hope that this year is an adventure. I hope that you are brave. I hope that you don’t change for others but that you stay your beautiful self.

Comforter

There is fear jailed between my eyes and eyelids,

Torturing my nightmares,

Stress eats the butterflies in my stomach,

Anxiety bullies my sore heart.

Softly, I whisper hope for layers of peace.

A layer of peace to silence the fear, a layer of peace to shatter the stress, a layer of peace to snuff the anxiety.

Whispers of hope to fall asleep beneath a warm and safe Comforter of Peace.

I am Mist

I am mist

Here today, gone tomorrow

Hiding blemishes in the landscapes

Letting the sun mix with my murky white to create quiet, hopeful beauty

The trees look more magnificent, the mountains look more majestic when the sun and I play around them

Meet the Parents

Nope nope nope. I’m not meeting his dad, family are off limits, it’s much too early in the relationship to ask such things.

I got the, “But my dad is really great, you’ll love him.”

He got the, “This isn’t fair, you haven’t met my family yet, why do I have to meet yours?”

Yes, I am dramatic and immature and make a weak argument. Why he’s still with me, we’ll never know.

Long story short, he won and my pettiness was shown up.

He proudly introduced me to his dad, and I pathetically laughed at nothing funny and otherwise sat mute. Of the four times I spoke to him, two times I shouldn’t have opened my mouth. The first incident was worse than the second.

After boyfriend left to make us tea, it was just me and boyfriend’s dad. Boyfriend’s brother walked past and I said, “Hey, come sit with us.” His reply was, “I’m just going to put a shirt on.” I responded with, “No! You look great without a shirt, come sit.” All the while, boyfriend’s dad was watching.

The second, albeit not as bad, was finally building up the courage to make conversation with the dad by asking him if he enjoys living in the country that he has been living in for the last ten years. When he said yes, I replied with the most surprised, “Really?” He’s ever heard.

Now you’ll understand why I really didn’t want to meet the parents; not because I was worried that they wouldn’t be nice, but because I knew that I would be a complete disaster.

Good luck to his mom who gets to meet me next week.

About a Girl

Last week, South Africa heard the cry of her women who have had enough. Rape story after murder story plastered the news and angry ladies marched the streets, proclaiming that they would not stand for cat calls, male expectations on them, rude or stereotypical comments made about females.

The injustices done to women because they are women hit a peak when a beautiful young lady was raped and murdered in a post office. The outcry was immediate and the women finally screamed, “This isn’t our fault that these incidences keep happening!”

There were news reports, poster boards, new hashtag movements and social media posts colouring South Africa in deep shades of angry red.

I love how our generation know how to speak up. Older generations criticize us for being idealistic and individualistic, but our parents always told us to follow our dreams and always be on the look out for ‘stranger danger.’ Well, this generation are now fighting for their dreams; dreams to be able to safely mail a letter. This generation are now screaming because they know that both strangers and friends are danger, and they are willing to scream until they are heard.

Image result for women protest south africa
https://news.yahoo.com/africa-toxic-masculinity-film-hailed-womens-protests-grow-091940167.html

However, in the midst of blasting canons full of sore words and angry tones, I sat in the back row in church on Sunday and listened to one girl’s voice. It was strong and rich and said things that unraveled things in the hearts of her listeners. Waterfalls of words splashed the cheeks of the people listening with their ears, their eyes and their hearts.

She spoke a poem that she had written to herself on her twenty- first birthday, ‘Daughter.’ She described her beauty, her curly hair, and rich dark skin, her worth and her place in a white city. She asked white women to raise their daughters to see all the different shades of skin colour and to love the rainbow that they create. She promised to raise her daughter just the same.

Her audience could not sit down at the end of the poem.

Through the chaos and the desperate screams of a desperate country, the #menaretrash and #aminext movements fell away. Men looked at her in awe and wonder over her incredible gift (not at what she was wearing or what she owed them), and I think many women answered her request with a solid ‘yes.’

Whenever I speak about it, my words ironically gush in nonsensical rapids of excitement over just how beautiful, powerful and defining it was.

Blind Date Genius

Yesterday I came home to the bathroom screaming Taylor Swift’s new lyrics, my housemate frantically applying mascara, and then more mascara, and then a little more after that. “Does this shirt look good, or should I change it?” she asks me and I start telling her about my day, the funny stories the kiddies wrote for me with their actions, and my friend and I sitting on a roof sipping hot coffee.

If she is distracted she won’t stress so much about the blind date that I set up for her. For a moment she is listening to my rambles, but eventually I have to bust her tranquil forgetfulness with reality. It’s time to leave, and I would rather she isn’t too late for my friend who would so patiently wait for her should she be.

The delay tactics she plays are good, but another housemate helps me in ushering her to her car. Now it’s just fingers crossed that she will drive to the meeting place, walk into the meeting place and talk in friendly tones to the meeting face.

I got a message from her telling me that she had just parked, and then it was her turn to fly, “fly little bird!” Can I tell you the helplessness you feel being on the wrong side of the blind date. I mean, my boyfriend wouldn’t appreciate me being set up on one of those, so I guess it’s a good thing I was on the wrong side.

I sat on the couch, waiting to hear the gate bumping open. I was joined for a bit by my housemate who eventually lost interest and went to get ready for bed. My boyfriend also kept me company for a while, bringing me tea and playing ‘Friends’ in the background of my anxious wait.

JC with the feline, while cooler people are out on dates

Minutes turned to hours turned to days…

Kidding. She finally walked through the door, “be cool, Jordy. Be cool.” I held my tongue, but couldn’t hold my giant smile that scared her as she came in. “All I’m going to say is that you chose well,” she said as she ran upstairs to pajama herself.

You guys, I crushed it. Maybe they won’t go out again, maybe there will be one or two more coffee dates, maybe something more, but there was a date with lots of talking, laughing and stories because two people were brave enough to trust their friend.

I didn’t even go on the date but in the end I think I felt the happiest out of everyone involved.