In a Different Time

Some people can wait for a life time to find “the one”. Sometimes, it occurs when you least expect it, a flash of colour unexpectedly brought into your life, the sound of their laugh catching in your head, refusing to ever leave, a shared gaze that lasts for a split second too long. Sometimes, we meet the right person at the wrong time, a year too soon, a month too late. Sometimes, we hope for a change in this incongruous pattern, crossing our fingers, praying to a believed deity, wishing on a star. For some lucky individuals, things work out and they meet their soul opposite at the right time, in the right place. For others, if it had occurred in a different time, years from now, a week from now, a day from now, things could have played out so differently.

Emily Rose was fifteen years old when she first laid eyes on Max Heather. He was, to her, a vision as he casually idled into her math class 20 minutes late, unaware of the looks he received, or the way Emily’s breath caught in her throat. She was old enough to know that Max was one of those few individuals in her school that she could classify as “good-looking”, but she was too young to know any better and so she let herself fall unmistakeably and irrevocably in love. As time went by, she realised that, although she had never uttered a word in his presence, she had somehow fallen for him, unaware of what may comes. She wasn’t quite able to pinpoint what it was about him that had attracted her in the first place. Perhaps it was the way he laughed, a deep, throaty chuckle that caused his eyes to crinkle and his head to fall back, or the way he bit his lip when he was concentrating on a serious subject, or the fire in his eyes he suddenly developed when describing one of his many passions. Emily was not able to pinpoint what it was exactly, because really, it was a whole lot of little things.

It wasn’t until Emily was asked to tutor Max in maths that she was able to talk to him. Although for only a short hour every Monday afternoon, Emily cherished every moment that she spent with him, relishing in the moments when he would accidentally brush her hand or when she caught a whiff of his aftershave as he bent forward to write in the correct answer. As time progressed, the two young individuals soon became an item, delighting in their time spent together, embracing every moment. As their final year approached, the two were still joined at the hip and spent all their time together, whenever they were free. As graduation approached, Emily began to feel a slight tugging towards unease, as apprehension began to set in place as their uncertain future became more obvious. Arguments flared between the naive couple as they started moving in different directions, taking a turn for the worse and separating from what they once were. As the end of their high school year approached, it became apparent to the once playful couple that old ties were no longer present, so they parted ways.

As time progressed and years went by, Emily Rose would think back to those high school years, with a small smile playing on her lips at the memories the two inexperienced teenagers had together. If only they had met years after, she would think to herself as she pecked her husband on the cheek. If only fate had waited out a little longer, she would sigh quietly, as she picked up her children’s misplaced toys. If only it had happened in a different time, she would say, as she slowly closed her front door, making sure to put on the bolt.

Flying Rats

Ah, Tuesdays. Most people abhor Mondays, correct? (If this is incorrect, then I'm sorry to inform you, dear readers, that you are just as weird as this demented writer. Oh you poor, poor soul). On the contrary to popular critics, I dislike Tuesdays.

There is, of course, a reason for my disapproval on this particular day. First of all, the word TUESDAY is the dirtiest word in the English language. It sounds like the sort of food you put in your mouth, chew on for a bit, then secretly spit out into a napkin whilst the hostess has her back turned. Yes, when I say the word TUESDAY, my skin shudders at the thought of having to beckon this ghastly, chewy word. Then, there is the small fact that it seems karma gets a delicious kick in targeting me on a TUESDAY, my one "day off" of the week. It is on these days, dear readers, where I have a day of blissful relaxation in a day off due to my day lacking in anything of great importance at University. Normally, people would take FULL advantage of these days and embrace them with much gusto. Normally, I would do this too, HOWEVER, dear Sir Karma gets a kick out of punishing me, even on these glorious days.

The previous TUESDAY fellow bygones, was a day that started out QUITE beautifully. I woke up to the sound of the waves crashing and the sun shining (it's starting to sound like a trashy novel, oh how affreux! If I didn't throw in some foreign words then this wouldn't be a trashy novel. OH how I pity the simple minded). THIS Tuesday proceeded with a trip to a large shopping centre where I was spoilt rotten by my mother and oh so debonair step father. It turned out to be a trip that was every little spoilt girls dream. We were given the credit card and told to run rampant.

FUN FACT: My mother is a shopaholic. She buys anything and possibly everything. We will walk into a typical, run of the mill, corner store to buy pain killers and walk out with bubble gum, a nail Polish to bright to ever actually wear out in public and a key chain. Why, you may ask incredulously. I do not know myself dear readers, it is a diseases. A disease, dear readers, that it seems I too posses. You would think this would make shop owners ex\cstatic, but on the contrary they tend to run and sound the alarm when they see us approaching. Interesting...

Now as the day progressed, I had a thought to myself that this particular day was turning out to be QUITE lovely. I may have possibly jinxed myself. You silly girl. I was quite happy at the end of the day, when we ventured home wards, with our bulging packets taking residence in the boot of our vehicle. Upon our arrival home, I thought it best to take my bags to my bedroom and unpack my clothes. So , like a new mother, I proudly placed my clothes on the bed, gently smoothing them out and admiring their beauty, gushing over their "new clothes smell" and soft, unworn fabric. I left them all out and ventured towards the kitchen in search of a quick snack and a cup of tea. As the day wore on into evening, I ventured back upstairs with another cup of tea back to the familiarity and comforts of my bedroom.

As I opened the door, turning the alluring metal door knob, I paused for a moment to silently smile at my wonderful day and lack of unluckiness. I stepped into my room and was greeted with a lovely flyinr\g rat, commonly known as a rock pigeon, sitting in my underwear basket. As I screamed in surprise, shock, terror (fear of birds, awful creatures), I threw my tea cup into the air, sending tea sailing through the air and onto my new clothes. The disgusting rat flew into the air in shock, flying into the wall once, twice, three times, before reaching it's escape through my balcony door.

As I surveyed the war zone, I sadly glanced at my, now drenched and tea stained outfits before letting out a sigh of defeat. It wasn't until I examined my underwear basket and realised that the OH SO LOVELY winged demon had left a gift for me in my underwear drawer, all over every piece of materiel I owned.
So as you see, my beautiful cherubs, TUESDAY'S are never fun and always end badly for this poor little lost soul.

You know it's going to be one of THOSE nights when you start with a PRE-MATCH.

So Friday night was one of those nights. A group of friends (basically 5 guys and another shemale friend that lives and shares my awkward life) and myself felt that a good night out was indeed needed after the stress of these last weeks and made the necessary mission to a club that goes by the magical name of Fez. As was required for these FEZtivies (I know, HOW original), This small and intimate group of mis-matched individuals decided to pre-match.

**For those of you reading that do NOT know what a Pre-match is (oh for shame. SHAME ON YOU), it is when a group of socially awkward individuals (like myself) meet up with other individuals, namely those that are socially acceptable and drink copious amounts of cheap alcohol before making said mission to chosen destination for a night of magical, raucous, drunken activites.**

As is expected, with the arrival of two unexpected shemales into this male dominated group of neanderthals, the "situation" was awkward to start. Both shemales stood around, pouring more drinks than was necessary for 7:30 p.m. and trying (failing) to engage in conversaton with these primitive beasts. After the liqour began to pour freely, the conversation went from mere grunts and groans to actual speeches. Although predominantly based around sex and taunting of both said shemales (it's best if you don't ask) there was conversation, a blessing if you will.

Now, these situations aren't NORMALLY terrible and CAN be fixed, but, of course in my life, this is NOT allowed. For starters, my ex was at said pre-match. Now, this would not be a problem, if said ex and I were allowed to be bygons. Which we're not. Thanks to the new shemale in his life that feels that "there is something naughty naughty kinky kinky" going on there. Which, yet again, we're not. 
After a brief stint of awkward waves and smiles, the alcohol eased the mood and allowed for conversation to flow freely between ALL said individuals, the previously primitive male dominance dissappearing with there mental social filters. The night continued with drunken actions and slurred words, unstable actions and cross-eyed glances.

Said group missioned to the said FEZ but grew tiresome and bored of this event and left soon after. A small group of individuals, (namely myself, my brother (20, for those asking, ladies), two male companions and (you guessed it) my ex) made the inevitable mission to the OH SO famous, McDonalds. We parked (I parked) the four wheeled transporter and decided to WALK into McDonalds and make a proper sit down meal. Now as is expected for two in the morning, one was only allowed to DRIVE through McDonalds, our sit-down meal plan was DESTROYED. Too lazy to once again, drive AROUND to the drive-through section, my ex and myself ambled (I ambled, he drunkenly stumbled) over to the take-out section. The idotic restaurant has a new service that asks you to order via an electric window thing, once the weight of your car has been felt. We did not have a car on us at that precise moment. We tried in vain to get the electric box's attention, running at full speed over assumed weight line, jumping at thye same time, skipping over, stomping, smacking, screaming at the box in anguish and shaking it in anger.

After a said period of time, a man on a bicycle came past and offered to ride over the weight line for us. Why a man was on a bicycle at two in the morning still causes me to raise eyebrow and cock my head (to the left, I don't like the right). We ordered our meals and made our way BACK to the car, where the other drunkards were STILL sitting, unaware that we had in fact, stopped, eaten, left the car and gotten back in. When these primitive beasts caught a wiff of the glorious processed meal, they demanded their own sevicings and we had to drive (they were too gone to stumble) back to the take-out line.

Whilst waiting for the buffons to decide what they wanted, two of said drunken fools, my brother and a companion thta goes by the name of James, decided it would be fun to wrestle/kick-box/karate kick/fight outside McDonalds at two in the morning. So for a laugh, we let them do it (whilst recording it and placing a random order, using their money and eating their food). When they had calmed down, and gotten back into said vehicle, we started driving again. As I reached a circle, the same two fools jumped out and began wrestling again. I drove on with the other two male indiviudals in the back of the vehicle. The two drunkards, realizing that the vehicle was no longer at the circle, chased the car to the robots, where I patiently waited... before driving a little and making them run a little more. As they decided to get back in, three cars appeared (yes at two in the morning) whilst I was pulled over in the middle of the road. THEN (yes it was coming) I saw blue lights. OF COURSE there would be a traffic officer at TWO in the morning at the EXACT moment that I pulled over IN THE MIDDLE OF THE ROAD. I feebly apologised to this abnormally large woman on a very small motorbike for the drunken tomfoolery and departed quickly.

My night, although not seeming so, was awkward yet fun. Another night lived with those inescapable moments of embarrassment.

Love those beach moments.

I haven't posted a blog in quite a while so I promise to make this one good because, of course karma doesn't think I deserve a day off and STILL haunts me with awkward moments everyday.

Today was a beautiful day in Cape Town so I thought, why not make the most of it and hit the beach, what's the worst that could happen? I piled up all my necessary beachy equipment (in other words, my cellphone, my iPod, my towel and book) into the car, grabbed my baby brother (Yes, I was babysitter for the day) fetched my grandmother (well you didn't think I would do it ALONE did you??) and made a mission to one of Cape Town's many beautiful beaches. Upon our arrival, we found an nice location close to the water and settled down for the long and lovely day ahead. After a while, naturally I began to become quite hot and flustered so decided to make the inevitable trip to the water. I waded in and after becoming used to the icy water, dove in and swam out.

Now, as one does when emerging from the water (I hope it's not just me), I tried to pictrure myself from the beach sitters view. I had a scene playing out in my head where I appeared like a James Bond girl, the role Halle Berry played in that atrocious orange bikini. I thought I could re-enact that scene emerging from the water, dripping wet, make-up  intact, looking like a natural star, a complete beaut. So I slicked back my hair and began to get up and walk towards the shore, putting on what I hoped to be a sultry, "I'm just casually emerging from the waves but look like a total babe" look. Naturally, karma had other ideas. You bastard.

I noted that I WAS drawing a few looks and decided to work with it, walking slower and smiling at on-lookers. I noticed a group of men staring and one pointed me out. I obviously thought my role was working QUITE well, I'd never received this much attention! So I thought it best to take on the demure look and smile whilst looking down, avoiding eye contact. It was at this precise moment in time that I noticed a most horrific sight. Without my knowledge (I swear it), my entire bikini top had become crumpled and slipped off my womanly assests during my mermaid impression of diving under the waves (don't mock me, I KNOW you do it too). Now as you are all aware, fellow readers, this is always a most compromising position for ANY girl, but what made this situation far, far worse was my sweet and oh so naive innocent grandmother.

"aah yeh!" she shrieked in her noticeably thick French accent, "My baby, your breastets are on show for everybody! We are not in Europe my daahling, you must cover your little boobies!" She then proceeded to mutter to herself in french before running over with a towel and trying to throw it at me even though I was still at least a metre out in the water and waving at her desperatley to turn around whilst slowly swimming under the water once again.

Needless to say, we made a hasty departure once I was brave enough to submerge from the water (this was an hour later when my toes had started to turn a suspicious shade of blue and I was absolutely certain the group of male individuals had dispersed).

Thank you OH SO wonderful mother nature and your cousin Karma for lving up to reputaton and wreaking havoc on my life. Kindest Regards.

a bitter end to a young love story

Hello fellow reader. I don't know if any of you have had one of those awkward love life situations. Oh, no? Well, let me fill you in then, dear readers, on the tale of a misled heart.

Sometimes, a girl and a boy both like each other, but no-one is to know of these hidden feelings, not even the said individuals. Soon, they eventually grow fond of each other. That fondness turns to infatuation. Eventually, they begin to fall for each other. Quite hard. Before you know it, this lovely young and reckless couple have thrown caution to the wind and decided to trust one another with a little thing that we, dear readers, like to called love. People begin to worry, as is expected, and warn that, although true and innocent, their love is young and childish, impossible to say it's fate now.

These two young and beautiful lovers refuse to acknowledge the negativity that is thrown around them, embracing the passion that they both had for life. The two beautiful, yet foolish and naïve young lovers greeted the adventure that came with a new love and drank each other up, yearning to learn more, eager to accept every new obstacle thrown their way, eager to prove everyone wrong.


Years seem to go by, and before you know it, the once young and reckless lovers have aged, their once frivolous and passionate romance has fizzled into a dim flame. The once happy and jovial couple are now locked into a seemingly matured and distant relationship, walking on flaming coals. Gone are the sentences that were once laden with secrets of devotion. Gone are the sugared words of love, the sweet looks. Gone is the need to eagerly explore one another, gone is the yearning for more and more and more.

One day, dear readers, this once simple and liberated couple woke up to find that they were strangers, with no one to fall back on. A bitter end to a beautiful young love.

Fuck Disney Princesses

Well today was obviously FUN. Not. So this morning I was in a car accident. I know. Just my freaking luck right? I lost control and drove into a bridge. Who does that?? So my car is basically a write off. Thank God I wasn't injured or anything (sigh). I ended up going home to Cape Town where I was greeted with more drama, family related. My life resembles that of a cheaply made Spanish Drama, with bad actors and artificial lighting. It was after I had an argument with my ex that I realised something. I wanna be a fucking Disney princess. Those bitches get all the fun.

I came to this realisation after I thought about how magical their world is. Their lives are so much less complicated! Imagine if your only stress was what flowers to pick that day. They never even have to change clothes! Or eat! Sure they have the wicked witch in the beginning or the "evil" stepmother, but REEAALLYY now, how freaking hard can that be? Eventually they know and so do all of us viewers at home, that they're gonna become fucking princesses with a prince and a castle and talking animals by their side.

Fuck Walt Disney. I can't' talk to animals or make flowers grow just by touching them Walty. And I certainly don't have a prince charming. Whaaaat a joke Walty :)

You know it's going to be a good night when....

Ah, Friday night. What an interesting time THAT was.For me, Friday night was expected to be relaxed and fun, a movie night followed by bed and tea. This did not happen. I made plans to go to movies with my gorgeous cousin (we're not really related though) and her latest "vaaaab" and someone else. That was OBVIOUSLY not a random blind date set up from the two conniving animals. I had to go fetch the lads and ended up getting lost for half an hour, even after I'd entered the address into my Google maps. I just decided t sway from the correct direction and invent my own ones. Clever clever girl.

We ended up seeing Planet of The Apes. Sweet soul. Not what I expected I won't lie. So after this very fun night of tomfoolery, teasing and bonding, I went home at a lovely hour (10:30) and was greeted by a silent and empty house. I decided to make my way to my bedroom when I saw car lights appear in my window. I BBM'ed (Blackberry messenger) my lovely stepsister, "Is that you cupcake? :D"
and received the reply, "Yes. Let's go somewhere?"
We decided to go exploring for a bar at 11 on a Friday night. We were too late for any good clubs and it was too late to go somewhere like Peddlars which had already closed. So we ended up driving towards Kalk Bay and settled on going to Cape to Cuba. Jess (stepsister) decided to get a mohjito  and I settled on a Red Bull. We left the bar and went outside to do some lovely sisterly bonding, when we were greeted by 3 INCREDIBLY strange men. The first came up to us and began to try and pick us up in French. Little did he know that I knew what he was saying and what he was saying did not make any sense whatsoever. We smiled politely and  thought that was the end of it when he beckoned his other two friends over.
"No you don't have to do tha- ah. Great." sighed my stepsister, rolling her eyes and dragging on her cigarette.
"oh can I borrow some ice" the one creepo said before sticking his hand into my glass and taking two blocks of ice.
'Well you may as well keep her drink now." Jess said sarcastically.
"oh thanks ladies, that's awfully nice of you." the grenade replied before taking my drink for hi own.
We presumed they would eventually begin to fade off but to no such luck. The original creepo, the one who cam to pick us up, began to tell us a story of how he moved here from Joburg with his mother after his mothers boyfriend locked him in a cubhoard for 6 months. At this point we were quite confused and bid them goodbye with a giggle and a shcoked expression.

By this point, we were too hyper to go home and too happy to care so at 1 in the morning, we decided to mission to Mcdonalds for Mcflurries. We ended up getting home at 2 where I was greeted by another BBM.
"Where are you right now?" I received from a lovely gentleman that I don't know that well.
"Hello," I replied happily, "I'm in bed already."
"I'm coming to fetch you for a drive :) I want to see you."
Well I was quite surprised with this message. I barely knew the gentleman and he wanted to come fetch me at 2 in the morning for a scenic drive? Alas I had to decline, for I was not too sure of what his true intentions were.  So I apologized to the gentleman in mention and went to bed.


Ah. What an unexpected evening in my rather strange life.

Silver nail polish and ripped pants. All in a days work.

SO. Today was on of THOSE days. You know, "that awkward moment". It all started on a bitter cold Monday Wednesday morning. I rolled myself out of bed at 6:30 and managed to drag myself to class without scaring anybody with my lack of sleep face. The day started off quite well actually. THEN, disaster struck. I was sitting in the BA building (the building fr the "arts" students) just minding my own business, when this guy  comes and sits next to me. Now normally I don't mind this sort of thing, I like a little attention here and there, given the right circumstances. But this guy... well.. he was different to say the least. And not in my normal taste. For starters, he was wearing a skull and cross bones necklace. Don't get me wrong, I like an odd, eclectic look sometimes, but when I saw his silver nail polish, I knew I was in for trouble.
I begged for the kind high powered spirits to let me be, but with no such luck.
"Soo. you must be a BA student." I heard from a rather high pitched and VERY nasally voice. I turned to stare at a man with longer hair than mine and and a smell that I can't quite put my finger on.
"yes... I am a BA student." I said as politely as I could.
"mmmm. I can see THAT" he smiled with this comment (I shuddered)  "I'm a language student. What are you doll?"
I replied with what I can only say was an attempt at a smile, "Humanities, but I'm studying French too."
"oooh we can be language buddies then! I'm doing German!" he then proceeded to explain to me HOW one goes about studying German and began yelling arbitrary German words at me whilst passer by's looked on with a bemused expression, hiding their smiles and choking back their giggles. I was lucky enough to be saved by my friend Inga, who was met with, "Oh my God Doll, I love this whole eclectic look you've got going on! Hippy but not too hippy, you work it!" This comment was followed by a finger snap and a hip roll. We managed to escape this event and I managed to get through the rest of my day pretty much ok. Until it was gym time.

Now, being a student means two things: 1) I have very little money. 2) When it comes to things such as darning or sewing, I am lazy as all hell. I got dressed for gym and noticed that there were little holes here and there, but didn't think anything of it. So I missioned to gym and began my workout with vigour. I completed a lovely 5km run, did some arm work and then moved into the weight section to work on my stomach. Now as is expected in a gym, the weight section was filled with a lot of burly men and a lot of male students. I sat down on one of the mats provided, facing the weight section and began my stomach exercises. I began to notice that I was receiving quite a few looks and some shocked and curious expressions, particularly from the surrounding males. Thinking it's because I looked so impressive doing my crunches (ha.ha.ha), I added on another 20 and then sat up to take a breather and check my sms's. That's when I saw it.

Running up my inner thigh all the way towards my crotch area was a massive hole. Now if that isn't awkward enough, I prefer not to wear underwear to the gym because it get's all up in my lady bits. I sat stone still, shocked, for about 5 minutes before getting up slowly and then sprinting to the exit.

Just another GREAT day in my lovely awkward life.