DAY12: Queue Here

What I am about to tell you is true, though it may be slightly exaggerated.

The human species has evolved/developed a few strange habits. Most of us trust too much in the wisdom of the masses, we are too willing to follow, too happy to comply. Even those who insist that they are forward thinkers, who despise crowd mentality, can sometimes become victim of their pack animal nature. Perhaps it is a form of self-preservation, do what you are told or be left behind, or maybe we have just become too lazy to think for ourselves.

I was bored, and sometimes when you are bored a little retail therapy seems to be the only thing to alleviate the condition. Yeah I know we are all consumers, we have become so desensitised by life that we just want to stuff our emptiness with things bla bla bla...I was in the mood to shop. So I headed off to the nearest mall.

 I am not one that likes to carry cash with me, I prefer plastic, but unfortunately to park at a mall always costs more than the amount of change you happen to have on you, so I had to make a withdrawal. There was a long queue at the ATM, everyone probably had to pay their parking tickets. I am not a fan of queues but sometimes you have to do what you have to do, so I joined it. After about five minutes of standing in the queue I realised there was three ATM cubicles and only two were being used. This was not my first ATM queue rodeo so I know that when an ATM is left untouched there normally is a reason for it, but this one was different. It had no notification, no words to warn that it was somehow out of order, nothing, it seemed to be in perfect working condition and inviting us to stick our cards inside it, yet no one did.  I could not keep silent, my curiosity would never have allowed it. “Why is no one using that ATM” I asked the person in front of me. He just shrugged his shoulders and said that he wasn’t sure. Then the mummers started, I had awakened something. I was not the only one wondering about the unused ATM. Because I dared ask the question we changed from a queue to a small community, united by our confusion over the abandoned ATM. Rumours started flying, “That ATM will swallow your card” one said. “I heard someone used that ATM once, and he ended up having 7 years bad luck” another may have added. People were coming up with excuses as to why they were not using the ATM, simply to justify their strange behaviour, when in reality the ATM remained unused simply because no one was using it.

I decided to be the brave warrior who would dive head first into the unknown. I walked up to the abandoned ATM, I walked with swagger, I was scared but I couldn’t show my fear. I could feel the eyes on me, people holding their breath. “That thing is going to swallow your card” one newcomer to the queue yelled, but I committed, I was taking one for my new ATM queue team. My card went in without a glitch, the machine proceeded to go though the normal instructions with me, I entered my pin, I chose an amount, but the real test was to see if I got my card and my money...and you know what, I did, there was absolutely nothing wrong with that thing...nothing. Somewhere in the queues history someone probably just spaced out, he got distracted by his phone or something and didn’t follow queue etiquette of using the open teller, he probably hovered a little while, and then proceeded to use another teller, thereby cementing the unfortunate ATMs reputation as broken, until one brave warrior was ready to test the truth.
 I thought it was slightly unnecessary but my queue friends applauded my bravery as I walked off with my money and my card intact. I will never see my queue family again, but it warms my heart to know I made their lives a little better that day, by being so incredibly brave I made things go a little faster for all of them...There were rumours that they wanted to erect  a statue in my honour, but I politely declined. I think that may be taking things a little too far.

Sometimes collectively we are very silly, and you don't always have to follow. Don't be scared to take chances, you might just let the queue go faster.

DAY 11: Murder most fowl.

According to the law of attraction everything you desire is within your reach. You just have to make your intent clear, ‘put it out there’ and wait for the universe to grant your wish. I myself am not convinced.  There definitely is a certain power to optimism and positive thoughts, simply because it changes how you interact with the world, not because it is magic. If you start your day off with the words “Today is going to be a great day, and I am awesome” your body language will change, you will be friendlier and more inviting, people will respond to you in a different way than to the guy who had a breakfast of “I am not worthy, and nobody likes me”, but do I believe you will get that dream house in Tuscany simply because I spoke the words aloud...no I don’t. These two fellows may experience existence in two very different ways but no matter how glass half full/half empty you are, life will inevitably happen. I myself am more of a purist when it comes to spiritual growth, I believe in baptism through fire, only through suffering are we moulded, purged of what we once were if you will. I don’t know if I can handle the responsibility of being so completely in charge of my existence that everything I desire is just a thought away, because you see not all my thoughts are angelic, not even close.

When I was a teenager, for some reason I will never understand, my parents bought a rooster. At first  I didn’t think anything of it, it was just a bird, how bad could it be?  The answer is terrible, horrible, the worst; I hated that bird so much. This rooster believed that the sun did in fact only rise because he crowed it into existence, and just to make sure he didn’t disappoint the world he would start warming up his majestic voice at 3’o clock every morning. We had a big yard so if he had just stuck to the far corners of the garden, the two of us may have been friends, but that is not what he did. People think animals are not malicious or prone to evil...those people didn’t meet that rooster. He had it in for me. My room was far from his cage, a “Groot Trek” in chicken steps, yet every morning three o’ clock he would come and sit on my window sill and make weird noises.  I even convinced myself that I heard him tapping on my window. It was torture. I get incredibly grumpy when I want to sleep and something makes noise...incredibly grumpy. The worst part is no one believed me. I would call my parents to come and listen to the noises he made, but whenever they would enter my room, he would jump of the sill and hide, making me look like a crazy person with unnecessary chicken hate.  As soon as they left he would be there again, making horrible throat noises and giving me the finger. He did this every single day. I hated that bird, and I am going to admit it I wanted it to die...and it did. His death is still under suspicion, but I give you my word that I did not physically do anything to cause his demise. I was taking an afternoon nap, because I was so tired from being kept awake for most of the night. I remember smiling as I dreamt of how the chicken drowned, I indulged in that dream. I replayed it over and over again in my head, “Die Chicken DIE!!!” I just woke up when my brother burst into my room with a weird smile on his face: “What did you do?” he smirked. I had no idea what he was talking about so I just ignored him. “The chicken has drowned” he told me. I would be lying if I said I was sad, I was equal parts confused and ecstatic...my enemy was defeated.

Maybe it is because I am a little sceptical that I still don’t have that house in Tuscany, and maybe it is because I believe in baptism through fire, I have to be baptised by fire. Maybe everything I have ever wanted really is only word away, but so far, the only thing I have managed to do when it comes to the law of attraction...was kill a chicken.

Be careful what you wish for.

DAY 10: Discouraged

Today I feel a little bit discouraged, and I can’t help to wonder what the point is of all of this. I have such a craving for cake, and I rarely have cravings for cake...I want cake...baked cheesecake to be exact.  Every place I go I imagine myself smoking there, here are the thoughts that go through my mind: “Man this really is a great place to smoke.” It has become clear that I really do have a strange relationship with cigarettes. I don’t get the physical cravings for it anymore, but now I just get the emotional cravings, and I have figured out why they occur.  To me smoking was a unit of time, and also a force field.  At work I would measure time by cigarette and coffee breaks  to make it through the day, without these little breaks the days seem to drag on forever...I am not particularly fond of this. I don’ t really know why I said it was a force field, that came out of nowhere...well I obviously thought it protected me from something, but I am not sure what...this will take further investigation.

This is normally the place where I would throw in the towel and yell: O who cares! I call it my f@#kit switch. That switch that tells you it was silly to start all of this in the first place. But this is where this blog comes in, and believe me it is so tough to force myself to write every day. Some days my head is just blank and I don’t think I have anything of value to add, but I committed to this journey very publicly and now I have to see it through...This journey is actually about sacrifice to gain clarity of thought, I must not lose track of that...It is very easy to lose track of that, a part of me feels I am so wishy washy and that I have completely overshared, and another part of me wants to drink a bottle of red wine and drunk dial someone...wine sure is great.

To get myself a little motivated again, I will try to focus on the positive changes I can already witness...there is only a few, but I will try to be super-excited about it. Ok my skin seems to be a lot more glowy, that is very positive. My diet is healthier. When you cut out all sugars, I have also included refined carbohydrates, you have to plan your meals, and when at what you are going to eat very carefully. You can’t get stuck somewhere without your allowed foods, because then you will go hungry.  I think I may have lost a little bit of weight, but I don’t weigh myself so I can’t be sure. I breathe easier, and I generally feel healthier, but I am still just a woman, and today I am a whiney woman by the looks of it because in all honesty nothing much has really changed.

Still I have now made it a quarter of way...and even if I am a little discouraged I am kinda proud of that. Three quarters to go, and I will definitely complete this mission, but I do hope it will get easier.

Tomorrow I will write about a chicken I hated once. Yes you read that correctly.

DAY: 9 Validation

It is hard to find that perfect balance between being humorous and serious. Humour is so delicate, so personal, so subjective, what I may find hilarious, you may find incredibly stupid or even offensive. Seriousness is definitely more respected than humour but to me it is still very opinionated what may be my truths may be the things you laugh at with your friends at barbeques. The constant battle between the internal clown and the cynic.

(I wasn't happy with the word cynic, I wanted a word that described someone who is serious without necessarily being sceptical. So to try and find this word I searched "Clown Antonyms" and this is what I found;

 Antonyms of CLOWN:

 

hero, heroine, idol, role model, gentleman, lady, angel, saint

O the poor clown what bias it has to compete with. Antonym means opposite, and the subtext of the opposing word is not so much to describe itself but rather to indicate what the other is not. So a clown is not a hero....ah poppycock I say. The best heroes and heroines have a sense of humour, isn't that why Superman had to die, yeah he was a hero and stuff, but man was the goody goody boring. 
It is little discoveries like these that make me think we as a society should really reconsider how we classify things. In fact I feel almost offended by that.) Side note: Where the hell did "poppycock" come from...I have never used it before in my life.

Anyway....the constant battle between the internal clown and the cynic. I have many parts, and I am sure you do too, but what I have come to realise is how these different parts, even though they can be the cause of great inner turmoil, protect you. Fragmentation is a survival mechanism. I realise it seems as if I am dabbling in the realm of split personalities...but that is not what I mean at all, I am simply referring to how we are different things to different people, how we wear the correct hat, if you will, for the right situation.

What I am actually trying to say, though I definitely took the long way around, is that The Universe cut me some slack today. Beautiful, glorious, redeeming slack. It ended a war that had been silently going on for more than a decade. The correct sentence at the correct time, spoken by the right lips, and the truth finally revealed itself. I have always believed in the power of words, but now I know its liberation. I was freed from a place where I have been held captive for so long that I stopped believing I was a prisoner...Please excuse my flair for the dramatic and I realise I am being quite vague, but I have to try and tell you this story without really telling it. The characters and the plot are not as important as the message.  It is easy to start doubting yourself and your sanity, I have briefly touched on this before, but I have come to realise something...I am not crazy, or weird at all, I simply cope with the world in my own unique way, I experience the world in my own special way, I make sense of it in my own way and I get hurt by it in my own way. If you think I am crazy because of that shame on you, and you are probably the kind of person that thinks the antonym of clown is hero...there I got that of my chest. How dare anyone of us tell others how they should experience the world, and  that what they are feeling is somehow wrong, how dare we? As it turns out I was the 'SANE' one all along, and I started to feel crazy because I knew I was sane...Inception anyone?
 I know what I am about to say may be frowned upon because we live in a world where everyone believes they are the masters of their own ships, where you are the architect of your own reality and situation, don't be emotional, keep on keeping on, buck up cadet and all that, but you know what, sometimes things are NOT YOUR FREAKIN FAULT. Sometimes people, places and situations really do SUCK, you are not wrong and you are definitely not crazy. Sometimes the world forces you to adapt, to fragment so that you can cope with all the nonsense it throws at you, but only a little bit at a time, and then one day, if you are ready, when you are ready, all the parts unite once more, and you see just how tough you really are. Then slowly you are revealed, and you are freed because you are validated.

So guard you heart, guard you mind and take care of yourself, because you are pretty Alright. Never doubt that.

Ok I think this one was a little more serious than humorous but I think the clown approves...what a saint.

DAY: 8 Random Mumblings

                                                              
ALF: Haaa! I kill me.

I wasn't sure what to write about, I am not feeling very serious, not feeling particularly funny or creative. I am tired, the kind of tired that makes you grumpy and not a nice person to be around, that tired that feels like it starts in your soul....o my goodness I can be so over the top can't I.
It normally happens on a Monday, because it is the day that I...I am going to say exercise, because the word train sounds like it should be associated with athletes...and I have never considered myself to be an athlete, so it is the day that I exercise for 2 hours straight. In some circles I am referred to as the ninja stripper, a title I am extremely proud of but it is purely based on the fact that I exercise at a martial arts studio. Although I am incredibly stealth, not to mention dangerous I have to confess that I am not really a ninja...and now I also feel like I have to mention that I am not really a stripper.

So for your enjoyment I am going to post pictures of TV series we used to watch when we were kids, or at least which I watched when I was a kid, I can only speak for myself...but if you do recognise them feel free to go...Ah I remember! I apologize for this act of laziness, but there is no guarantee what would come out of me otherwise. To unleash this tired persons mumblings on the world would be confusing, because I have this sneaky suspicion that it will end somewhere along the lines of "O I have so many feelings" "Can we ever really know someone?" and I will go on and on about the long dark tea time of the soul...not the book the meaning, and I am not in the mood for that now...

The handsome fellow at the top of the page is off course, our favourite cat eating Malmacian, our beloved ALF. Here are a few quotes from the show I googled for you. I find it rather amusing.

You can't argue with this logic...

Willie: This is a jigsaw puzzle.
ALF: It's broken.
Willie: That's the object, ALF. You're supposed to put it together.
ALF: Why? I didn't break it.

The following one almost sounds wise...

ALF: Putting humans in charge of the earth, is the cosmic equivalence of letting Eddie Murphy direct.

This one really cracked me up...seriously I find it hilarious.

ALF: I had a cousin. Pretty Boy Shumway. He lived on the south side of Melmac. The baddest part of the planet. If he didn't like your shoes...
[points at Willy, imitating machine gun sound]
ALF: "ak-ak-ak-ak-ak."
Willie: You mean he'd shoot a person just because he didn't like his shoes?
ALF: No. He'd just point at you and go, "Ak-ak-ak-ak-ak."

Not my favourite show, but I would just like to mention that someone once told me Woody- that is the nerdy looking kid in the glasses for those of you who have no idea what The Wonder Years were, was played by a young Marilyn Manson, and I believed them. I even repeated it to many others...it was in the time before google was a thing so we all just went Ooooh when confronted with a possible fact. Some thing like that could never again happen in modern times.

Did anyone else think Full house was incredibly annoying...I sure did.

Look at all the 30 year olds playing teenagers...how believable. Oh I had such a crush on Luke Perry...Let see if I can remember all the character names. Bottom Left: David, Donna, Dylan, Brenda. Top Row Left: Kelly, Steve...I cannot remember the nerdy old lady's name...and it is not important enough for me to google...it is really not...and Brandon. I don't know if I should feel proud of myself or sorry for myself for just doing that.

This was one of my favourites. Can't remember that much about it though. I just know I really liked it.

O hell's yeah...look David Hasselhoff is almost, kinda, sorta attractive. I just realised that Hasselfhoff's and McMormick's hair looks as if it was permed...the 80's was a very strange decade.

Ok that is me....Farewell to all. I really am tired.

DAY 7: Threshold Gaurdians

A book that I highly recommend is "The Writers Journey" by Christopher Vogler. It touches on the mythical elements of storytelling and investigates the main archetypical characters. Personally I think it is also a viable manual for life. It talks about the Hero's journey, and lets face it we are all the heroes of our own stories...we have to be, because who else will cast you in that role.

There is one archetype in particular that has always fascinated me, simply because they are so prominent and identifiable in real life. I am referring to the Threshold Guardians, the ones destined to stand in your way and who will force you to re-evaluate the path that you are on, the ones you must defeat or overcome if you wish to be successful on your journey. They can take on many forms, it could be a teacher that makes your life unnecessarily hard, a boss that prevents your growth in the company or someone that dismisses your ideas and causes self-doubt to set in, basically they could be anybody. They are here to test us, they are here to see how much you really desire something, they are the roadblocks that prevent you from reaching your destination if you allow them. Because whenever a threshold guardian appears there is always a choice to be made, for they guard the threshold between the victim and the hero, between victory and defeat. So always choose wisely.

This reminds me of the scene in the Neverending Story where Atreyu had to make it past the Southern Oracle. The Southern Oracle literally guarded a threshold, they made the symbolism incredibly obvious, but it is still one of my favourite stories of all time. Only those who didn't doubt themselves could make it past their laser beam eyes. One unfortunate Knight was zapped into nothing but metal, bones and disappointment because, even though he had fancy armour, deep down he believed himself to be unworthy.

The Southern Oracle

Even Atreyu almost didn't make it past the burn of their judgement. So I guess the lesson is, you better know who you are, be convinced of what you are doing, and you better be sure of yourself or the Threshold Guardians are going to zap you.

It has been a week now on the o-so-melodramatically-named Road to Redemption, and I have experienced every single human emotion some were fuelled by withdrawals, others just because I sometimes have a tendency to feel sorry for myself. The first three days were by far the toughest, there were moments where I would start crying for no reason, followed by moments where I would want to punch someone for no reason. It is very interesting to see just how much stimulants really affect our bodies, and also as tempting as they are, we don't really need them. It helped to write about it, and it took my mind of things, but the writing is not the point of this journey, it is just  a tool to hold myself accountable. The point is to enter the desert hidden within myself, to face the faceless monsters that have hitched a ride for far too long, to defeat my invisible enemies  and to conquer my own personal Threshold Guardians.  I'll just tell you all about it along the way.

Tomorrow I am going to up the stakes a little. I will add a short kettle bell exercise routine in the mornings, and I also want to start oil-pulling. Oil Pulling is where you rinse you mouth with coconut oil every morning for 20 minutes, apparently it is amazing for oral health...I know, I am also sceptical, but what do I have to lose. I will let you know how that works out.

Good Luck to you all and may we all defeat our Treshold Gaurdians.

DAY:6 -The Nostalgia and the Kevin Smith Generation

 

 

The post is a little late...I know. I just got home late last night, but I am still ninja-ing through everything. I have not cheated once, and I am starting to feel amazing. My energy levels have increased and my mind does seem to be clearer. Still waiting for my great revelation though...but let's get down to the topic of the day.

The Nostalgia set in a couple of days ago when I decided to rent my myself a Movie. I still refer to these places as video stores even tough they only stock DVD's these days. I was about to write that I cannot  recollect the last time I even saw a video cassette, but then I remembered that until recently my mother still used the video machine everyday to record the soaps she was not able to watch, no other programmes only soapies.  I am not sure if she still does it, or if she has upgraded to the easier satellite decoder recoding method, but I am definitely sure she still records her soapies. She will always find a way to record those soaps, because we all know that if you miss just one day of a Soap Opera you will never be able to catch up, or ever understand what is going on there ever again.

 We have had so many quarrels about these soaps, which she refers to as "Her Stories", because she could record only one at a time, the rest she had to watch in real time, and real time was often in the middle of a great movie or any other programme that you were waiting to see. She always won and she always watched her stories, but not without me telling her how much I dislike soap opera's.  She would then retaliate by telling me how stupid all the programmes were that I watched. I like fantasy, horror, mystery, sci-fi...anything really with the exception of soap operas, and she likes her programmes to be more 'realistic' as she puts it. Now, I am sorry Mommy but coming back from the dead three times only to discover you are your own father or something stupid like that is not realistic, I think dinosaurs riding unicorns are more plausible in TV land, but I know we will never agree on this matter, and it just goes to show you that everything is indeed relative.

I was and still am a big fan of Kevin Smith movies, so every time I walk into a video store I think of Clerks. I realise the movie wasn't set in a video store, but my mind makes the connection to the often drifting generation, who stood around a lot, smoking and discussing music, comic books and other popular phenomena of their time, that are portrayed in Smith's movies. I loved that generation, yeah sure they lacked what some might call ambition but they knew the art of banter, and were all so gloriously disillusioned by the world, but unfortunately they are now all grown up and the places that used to be their playgrounds are slowly fading away. The days of Record and Video stores may unfortunately be numbered...The world is going virtual. Enough people have spoken about how we are now more lonely than ever, because most of our interactions are electronic, we all are aware of this, so I am not going to jump on that band wagon now. I rather want to take the time to focus on some cool places and rituals that slowly withered in the shadow of progress.

The Drive In

I missed the heyday of the Drive-in, but I just find the concept so incredibly cool, it is not fancy but it is the best way I can describe my feelings towards it. I loved the idea of sitting in your car, ordering burgers from the roadhouse and letting it hang from your window, while you and your date, or your friends get to watch two movies in a row...what is there not to love. I also like to wonder how many children were conceived at the Drive-In. To me it just seems like a magical place. The Drive in was defeated by Movie Theatres and television, but I really don't understand why, and it now looks like movie theatres might slowly be hurtling towards the same fate, why go out when you can watch any movie in the comfort of your own home?

The Mix Tape

I remember waiting for the Top 40 Hits of the week every Saturday. My tape recorder was ready, I was ready, and every time a song that I liked would play, I would press that record button so hard. It was such a skill to record at the correct time between where the DJ was still talking and the song began, and I never completely mastered the art of it. These were the days before, rip/burn and I-playlists, if you wanted a collection of your favourite tracks playing back to back, you had to work for it. To this day I still believe there is nothing more romantic than a proper mix tape. How lovely if someone is willing to take time out of their day to combine a collection of songs that remind them of you, and even better if it is an actual tape because you know how long that took to create. I don't know if you would be able to listen to it though, because I really can't remember the last time I saw a tape player.

The Sunday Night Movie

I chose this phrase to describe the times when there were only a few channels, and we all had to watch the same thing, and we didn't die. I fondly remember the discussion we would all have the following day after a great episode of McGuyver or Tropical Heat, ok mostly McGuyver, Tropical Heat was a little bit cheesy. Everyone could join in on the conversation, and if you missed the episode, there were enough people who would gladly give you a play by play of the events. And you had to wait an entire week to see what would happen next. I don't know how we survived such primitive times. It was frustrating and it was thrilling.

I realise one should be careful not to romanticise the past, because now isn't perfect and it wasn't perfect then either, and I can almost guarantee the future will have the same problem with imperfection. But is sure is fun reminiscing about the good-old-times isn't it?

Can we please bring back the drive-in...and none of that rooftop nonsense...I am talking about the real Drive-In experience.

Oh and could someone please make me a mix-tape if it is not too much trouble...Thank You

DAY 5: So just how crazy am I?

Have you ever found yourself in a conversation with men about some crazy girl you didn't really know? It is never quite clear why the girl being discussed is crazy, normally it has something to do with her being needy, rarely is it because she boiled someone's bunny.  Sometimes the evidence for her craziness is simply that she lost her cool when someone said something offensive to her for the fifth time, they off course never mention that someone said something offensive. Or she is crazy because she got offended that someone didn't respond to a text message in a timely matter...Somebody lock the bitch up.

I have been in these conversations and I was always sort of relieved that I was not the girl in question. How could she be so desperate? Did she have no self-respect?... I would think to myself. Yes, I was guilty of some girl-on-girl discrimination, and I am not proud. I felt that I had somehow made it into the boys club, that  I was part of their inner circle, and that I had my shit together...obviously, but I was wrong, terribly wrong, it turns out my shit was not as together as I had hoped and wait for it..I am in fact a girl, and no ordinary girl folks, o no I am the Queen of Crazy,  and I have been hiding in plain sight all along.
Now it may be my paranoia, but I also have this sneaky suspicion that at the moment I might be the crazy girl in the discussions, I always knew they were out to get me, it was simply a matter of time.

At first I wanted to fight the label and the title but now I am inclined to yell: "Guilty!" as I wear my tiara, and my purple feather boa dances in the wind. Frankly trying to be "normal" or you know "not crazy" is exhausting. So I have decided to give in to my more eccentric whims, because you know what you gain from always trying to be level headed and in control all the time, let me spell it out for you... N.O.T.H.I.N.G,  no matter what you do eventually someone will think you are crazy. You could have travelled the world, started a hundred charities, dined with Kings, climbed mountains and swam across ravines, but if one emotion seems out of place...the woman be trippin. (I have not done any of those things by the way, I have travelled the world a little, but I don't even know what a ravine is, let alone if you can swim across one. I don't even know why I chose the word ravine) It is like they are waiting in the wings for you to act...you know like a human being, and then they can say "I always knew she was crazy", or at least that is what all the voices are telling me.

I want to find my tribe, those who want to wear cowboy boots with corsets, those who want to drink wine and howl at the moon, simply because it seems like as good a thing to do as any when it comes to the moon. Those who want to be a million things, and who know life is more than a set of rules.  Those who have a lust for adventure, who are not scared to wear their scars and their heartaches where everyone is free to see them, those who can laugh at the world and at themselves until they can almost no longer breathe, because life is just that funny and it is pointless to take anything too seriously. Those who know that being a little crazy sometimes is a splendid thing.

There are so many quizzes on the web that will help you test your sanity: "Am I Crazy?", "He says I am crazy am I?", "Just how crazy am I?" This makes me think a lot of us are suffering silently, and many secretly feel they are losing their minds, and do you know what I say to all of this....Screw It, and I am your Queen so you have to listen to me. If you really think about it, it is mostly other people who are making us feel like shit, it is how others respond to us that make us question our sanity, and enough of that now. Lets take our power back and not allow anyone else to influence how we feel about ourselves. Lets get rid of those who make us doubt ourselves. (and for those of you who dabble in the darker side of crazy I do not mean lets kill them, I simply mean avoid them for awhile)

In my brief investigation about my sanity I came across this really funny post entitled "33 Reasons I am not crazy, You're just a d*ck" by Lauren Martin.
http://elitedaily.com/life/culture/im-not-crazy-its-you/875017/

It explores how women are sometimes unfairly labelled as crazy for simply responding to situations, It contains a list of defences against being crazy and apparently they all really happened. Here are some of my favourite examples:

I'm not obsessed, I just thought I'd call when you said you were supposed to pick me up and never showed up.

I’m not dramatic, I just had a family member die and you ignored my calls.

I'm not overly-emotional, you were just being a douchebag and I'm responding to that.

I'm not a prude, I just don't want to have sex in this coat closet in my great aunt's hallway.

So there you go...in those moments that you feel like you are losing your head, just look around, maybe someone is just being a d*ck.

O and by the way I am starting to feel so much better. I am over the worst of it I think. 5 down 35 to go.

DAY 4: The Carousel Spin of Death.

I realised a few things about myself at the pole arts class tonight...as you do.

When I first started I was quite proud of myself and I felt that I progressed at a steady pace, but I now feel like it has come to a halt. The instructor recommended that we all enter a beginner’s competition in September because you know, why not?  I think I have to, because maybe it will force me out of this slump.

I like the moves where you have to rely on your strength, where you have to use your core, where you have to hang on , show how strong you are, what I am really struggling with is the more flowy moves, where you have to twirl, fall and glide down the pole...like a slightly slutty princess, these are the fun moves people and they are getting the better of me. There is one move in particular that has turned out to be my nemesis, it is called the Carousel Spin of Death...ok I added the ‘of death’ part,  it really isn’t even that hard to do but it has got me all kinds of blocked up.

All the fitness instructors say it is because I have a tendency to over-think things instead of doing them, so I overcomplicate things that are relatively easy and end up looking like I have no idea what my body is or how to use it. Now if you also have a tendency to over-think things, you’ll know how hard it is not to do it. It is an extremely weird survival mechanism and I don’t know why we have taught ourselves to do this. And the more people tell you not to over-think things the more you do, it is the pink elephant people tell you not to think about. Add to that that I lose grip with the one hand and refuse to let go with the other. Trust me releasing your grip slightly is rather important to spin around a pole, but no not me, I hold on to that pole for dear life, I hold on to that pole like it is my saviour, I hold on to that pole like if I let go the devil will come and take my soul...o man I hold on to that pole. So in short I don’t spin I kinda just awkwardly hang there.
Now while my one hand has the survival grip of a thousand ninjas, the other one is just like...nah. I have tried swapping them around, but then magically their roles are reversed. My body confuses me...so damn much. This has let to moments in the class where all the girls would look at me with encouragement and say: “Just let go” and I will be all like “You let go” followed quickly by “I don’t know how to let go.” and we would all laugh and laugh.

So basically I am a woman who likes to think she is strong, but easily loses grip and who refuses to let go, and I will probably over-think this situation for the next few weeks to come.

DAY 3: Confessions

Today was not a good day. It was one of those days where you experience every emotion almost at the same time. I suffered from melancholy, had a run in with nostalgia, and generally wondered about every decision I have ever made. I really am at a cross-road in my life, and there are some very important decisions to be made, big, scary decisions that almost seem life threatening, but not today...Today I know my emotions are controlled by withdrawals, so even deciding what to wear was a bit of an effort.

There is a part of me that wants to be all child-like about it, and throw all my toys out of the cot while screaming: "Why is life so hard?" For those of you who have never experienced this, consider yourself truly lucky. Actually I have no idea if it is normal to feel that life sometimes gets too much, because truthfully I have always had a tendency to go a little dark...and I have the bad poetry to prove it.

I am off course also seriously reconsidering my sanity...why would anyone in their right minds give up everything that they enjoy all at once...like a lunatic?

And now it is time for Edith's Poetry corner: I apologise for what I am about to unleash but all this talk about my dark-side has forced me to go look for some of the o so dark poetry I have written when I was a teenager...yes I kept it...all of it. This was the first thing I could find and believe me there is plenty more where that came from. If any of you still have some of your teenage poetry hanging around, please share it with the rest of us so we can appreciate how far we have come...this shit is hilarious...I was obviously tortured.

I was forced to swallow a bitter pill

    and it went down with no water,

        at first it choked me

           its venom was bitter but it did not kill.

A dreamer is a King only when he is asleep,

     being awake a curse,

        trying to adapt to a world where two realities just don't meet.

There is an eternity between an Us

      and a lifetime of me.

       I don't know where to look for you,

         given up on a you finding me.

And what if I find you...

             ....then what do I do?

I was 17 when I wrote this, and o my goodness was I a troubled kid.

I think my natural tendency towards melancholy was kept at bay by my desire to achieve things...so I was a sad kid, but I always wanted to do something epic. And now, I think this may be one of life's full-circle moments, I have to kick melancholy in the pants, because yes, I can feel it creeping up once more. So before the 40 days is done I have to come up with my next great goal in life. Something to focus all of my energy on, something truly amazing...but I have absolutely no idea what it is yet so give me some time.

This poem has really cheered me up. I have always been intense, I cannot deny it, and frankly in a weird way I am kind of proud of it...So I have a lot of feelings, So What?

But what am I talking about in this poem? I am all over the place...emotions everywhere, and then that ending...o that ending...to summarise the poem "I am feeling very sorry for myself and I want to fall in love...but then what?"

It is a little tragic and a little funny, and that I believe is the perfect way to describe Life.

Whatever it was that I was going through at that stage in my life, I survived it, and I lived to share the slightly angst driven poetry. I also remember that every moment of sadness was followed by a moment of laughter, and there has been a lot of laughter. So if you ever feel sad know that laughter is inevitable, and let this little teenage poem be a reminder, that things come and go...and then they might return again, because if there is no set destination, you are bound to revisit some places.

Maybe it is time for me to really decide where I am going...but not today.



DAY 2: Anonymous

I dedicate today to all the brave men and women who create cheesy images anonymously.

This image caught my eye today, not because of the two people who are trying to be super sexy, but because of the words that are paired with it.    

                                                                                      

"In the hands of the right man a woman is a hundred different women, limited only by imagination and his willingness to make her feel save and lead her." -Anonymous

I really like the words, I think it is powerful, but for some reason I find the image and the words together quite amusing. Like they somehow just don't fit together well. The words hint at a great love, the picture hints at great sex, and I am not really sure what to make of it. In fact the the word/picture combo screams masochism...or is it just me maybe revealing too much of my psyche?...I never can tell the difference. 

This got me thinking, who are the brave soldiers who create these anonymous images, why don't they want to put their names to their work? what do they look like? and how many wise words are they yet to give to the world? Well...I cannot answer any of these questions, but I can sure find a few more anonymous quotes.                                

P.S. My computer for some reason I don't understand doesn't want to work, so I have to type everything on my phone...I am so annoyed right now...annoyed and tired. So forgive weird little spelling mistakes, will you?

 

   The Bitter side of Anonymous.  

                      

                                                                                 
The Obsessive side of anonymous. This seems a little unhealthy...or am I being too judgy? Weird thing is I totally get it...wink wink Chris Evans.
                                                                       

                                                 

The gets right to the point anonymous...no time for beating around the bush...and I think he chose to stay anonymous because a lot of people would say he is wrong too. 

   

Anonymous words I really like...It is not very clear so I will repeat it.

"Seduce my mind and you can have my body.

    Find my soul and I'm yours forever."

This is so pretty...go anonymous go...wink wink Chris Evans.

Ok that is enough for now...I am tired. One of my friends came over tonight and I could only start writing a little bit later. I am still going strong, I drink so much Rooibos tea now to fill the gaps left by well...everything...it helps a little. I have to tell you the days really feel longer. My friend said she also tried something like this once, and she went to bed every night at 8:00PM, because of the lengthy days, and well frankly it is a little boring and sleeping is amazing. I have kept to my end of the bargain, but so far nothing magical has happened just yet...

DAY 1 -This is tough.

The only thing I keep thinking is: “Man I want a cigarette”.  I have been smoking for so many years that I almost don’t know who I am without it. My head hurts a little but nothing too serious and the sugar and caffeine are at least easy to ignore, well easy compared to the cigarettes. So far I have not experienced any enlightened thoughts, the Universe has not revealed itself to me yet, but I have a weird suspicion that I may be impatient. 

Mostly the day just really feels longer, and somehow greyer than usual.  To tell the truth I just want to go home, crawl into bed and sleep the day away, but unfortunately I cannot.  There is this constant sensation of something being missing, and for some reason I keep speaking in a Texan accent, or what I believe to be a Texan accent, since when do I have a Texan accent? I have to admit it is a pretty good Texan accent.  It almost feels like my brain is experiencing a slight malfunction.

I did have a recurring thought today. It was about The Prophet by Kalil Gibran, or more specifically it was about the part on love.  This book has always been part of my life, I am not trying to be all spiritual about it, I do mean, physically I have always had this book.  I don’t have any recollection of buying it, or of someone ever giving it to me, or bringing it over to our house, it has always been there just waiting for me to read it. I am sure there is a logical explanation for the books’ appearance in my life, but honestly I don’t know what it is, and I kinda like thinking it somehow just magically appeared.  The part on Love keeps repeating in my head over and over again, and I am just going to quote to you which part in particular:

“And think not you can direct the course of love, for love, if it finds you worthy, directs your course.” –Kalil Gibran

There, just that bit and it doesn't want to stop, it is like it is on loop in my mind, and I think I know why because something about that sentence really bugs me. “...for love if it finds you worthy ...” I realise I am taking this out of the context that is was intended, but still that bit speaks to me...and not in a good way. Do whatever you want, try as hard as you may...you better hope love finds you worthy. It will direct your course but only if it finds you worthy, if you don’t  live up to its standard you are on our own, and how exactly does Love separate the worthy from the unworthy, on what does It base its judgement, or does it simply flip a coin. “Heads...ok you deserve all the love and adoration in the world. Tails...ok screw you.” I am a little tired of hoping that love will one day find me worthy...maybe at the moment  I am thinking: “Love you are kinda being a dick right now. Maybe you should hope I find you worthy”...but then I immediately take it back because that sounds like the kind of sentence that could get you into trouble.  Love sure does cause us to lose our heads sometimes, doesn’t it? Maybe its love, maybe I just want a cigarette.

So I made it through the day without breaking any of my rules, and I exercised for 2 hours. I joined a martial arts studio a while ago, it is called Dragon Spirit, I believe if anything is ever called Dragon Spirit  you should join it immediately. I partake in what they call Tactfit and Pole Arts...yes I am doing pole dancing. It is a lot of fun, but I am not a gracious swan yet, but hopefully I will get there.

The only thing I can say about this day is; “Yeah I made it, and now I am over it.” Hopefully I will be in a better mood tomorrow.

The Road to Redemption...

Mullets.

When I was a kid, probably around the age of 5 my mother and I couldn't agree on which hairstyle suited me best. She preferred me with short hair, and I wanted long hair, and we just couldn't see eye to eye on the matter. She believed short hair really defined my beautiful frizzy curls, I believed long hair would make me look like the sophisticated woman that I was. Even after many lengthy, and I would like to think intellectual, discussions neither of us were willing to back down, but to save our family from the certain collapse hairstyle quarrels inevitably bring, we did manage to come to some form of an agreement. My hair would be kept nice and short in the front to keep her happy, and I was free to grow long luxurious hair at the back. It was a victory for me and I thought it sounded perfectly reasonable. It didn't occur to me at the time that I had in fact compromised my hair into the now infamous and quite unattractive haircut better known as the Mullet. I have to mention it was the 80's and yes it was simpler times, but even then the only people who could pull off a frizzy little curl mullet, and barely at that, were Sport-legends and Rockstars, and I know this may come as a surprise, but I was neither. I was just a chubby little girl with a mullet.

The photo unfortunately doesn't illustrate the full glory of my once proud mane, the reason for this is that the world then as it is now was filled with institutions, and institutions have always been filled with rules, and even though I clearly was a master negotiator, I was not above said rules, so I had to comply and tame my locks every day I had to go to school. The picture at the top of the page, is me sporting a very stylin look I created especially for picture-day. The party at the back hair was side-swept, into my attempt at a side-ponytail, and I can almost guarantee what held it all of this magic in place was a scrunchy...I knew how to make myself look good.

Tiaras.

So as a parent what should you do with a chubby little mullet-haired girl? Well why not take a page out of my mother's book and enter her into every children's beauty pageant you can find.

 I believe my mother never wanted to be a housewife, she always enjoyed working, but in the spirit of the times she quit her job to raise the kids, but this bored her a little bit and she had to find creative ways of entertaining herself. Now till this day I am not sure whether my mother had a wicked sense of humour, genuinely believed I was pretty, drank too much or simply wanted the world to teach me a few lessons, but I did end up on many a stage before my 10th birthday, and more often than not it was in a bathing suit. To be fair it wasn't all my mother's idea, o no, the truth is the chubby little mullet girl had amazing self confidence, supported by the fact that she believed she was born into this world to be a star. Yes I was the kind of kid whose mother didn't have to tell her she was special, for you see I was too busy telling my mother that I was. I would perform anywhere and everywhere for anyone unfortunate enough to make eye contact. I would sing, I would dance, I would tell stories, anything to keep my public entertained while I waited to be 'discovered'. I remember a conversation I had with my mother once, round about the time I had my first mullet cut, I can't remember what I said exactly but it boiled down to me telling her that I truly believed I was destined for greatness, and her response simply was: "O we all think that dear". My dear mother supported me in all my endeavours and she believed I had just as good a shot as anybody else to achieve things, but she has never been in the business of feeding my ego.

Being the chubby, mullet haired kid in a beauty pageant has taught me a few things. First of all, you must develop a sense of humour because you will never make it based on your looks alone. There will always be people who will cheer you on, focus on those people and drown out the rest. When I was 7, by some fluke of nature or because my mother pulled a few strings that were better left un-pulled, I made it into a rather large, rather serious bikini contest. Now I was confident, not stupid and I knew I had no business being there, but not being one to back down I decided to go for it. I had a rather big belly so I knew a bikini would not do, so I opted for a neon-yellow polka-dot one-piece, and pink shorts to cover my stubby little legs. Yes, I had style.

The place was filled with people and I will never forget the looks of confusion on their faces when I first walked out on that stage.  My mere presence upset a few of them because they believed I didn't understand my part in this world, to them there was a natural order to life, and I was clearly messing with it. Some looked at me in utter astonishment and then proceeded to clap their hands awkwardly, because most people will at least try to be nice, and then there were those people who I could see respected my balls, and they would always cheer the loudest. You should always look for these people in life, and then befriend them immediately.

The pageants have also taught me that anyone is willing to talk to you, if you are friendly, show a genuine interest and never ask stupid questions. I have never won a beauty contest, but I always ended up making a lot of friends. The most invaluable lesson that I learned is that everybody, and I do mean everybody feels insecure at times so you don't ever have to feel bad if you do too. I would be surrounded by the most beautiful girls, girls who had every right to be entered into a bikini contest, girls so pretty I would stare at them weirdly, like my eyes couldn't believe humans like that could exist in real life, and they would be terrified of going on stage, they would believe THEY weren't good enough. Yes we all doubt ourselves sometimes, even beauty-queens, so there must be hope for the rest of us, even chubby, little mullet-haired girls.

A little bit of faith.

So what is the point of all this? Why am I telling you about the overconfident mullet-rocking chubby little girl that took part in beauty pageants because she believed she was destined for greatness? The answer is as simple as it is sad. In true Disney's The Kid style that chubby little girl is what I have spent my entire life trying to get away from. She became the bane of my existence, something that I had to overcome, something that I had to burry away.

Somewhere along mullet-girl’s path she allowed the world and its inhabitants to get to her, she lost faith in herself and then gradually in everything else, the self-confidence was replaced with self-doubt, and she started to believe that she was somehow not good enough. She was replaced by a shadow, a chameleon, someone who would adapt to any situation in order to get people to like her. She always looked to others to make her feel like she was worthy, to make her believe that she was good enough. She became someone who built walls, who put on masks and she fragmented into many parts to protect herself. We all know, because I am sure a lot of you have similar stories, that losing yourself, or betraying the little kid inside, doesn't happen overnight. It is a gradual process and we are often not aware of it happening. It is only in reflection that we realise that we have some-how lost something, that somewhere along the road we steered off course and got stuck. Then one-day if you are lucky, you wake up and you wonder how exactly did you get there.

I am not going to go into details about the events that forced me to open my eyes, it wasn’t big or extreme, more like a persistent, annoying nudge, but I will tell you a little bit about the process: Something happens that shifts your perception on everything you thought you knew, this causes great inner turmoil and without realising it you become a little self destructive, you battle with yourself, you try to cling to the illusions you have created, but you have already begun to change and you can’t go back to what you once were. Yet you continue to wage war, against the world, against yourself and without fully realising what you are doing you orchestrate your own fall from grace, because deep down you know you were meant to fall, because only falling can free you from the lies you so desperately cling to. This is the point, I believe, where your real journey starts, that moment when you become aware you have a choice; keep repeating the same mistakes and whither away or resurrect yourself. This is the time to get up, return to the road and try to find the way back to who you really are.

This sounds very impressive doesn’t it? Unfortunately, I honestly have no idea how to do it. Still, at least trying something is always better than doing nothing and just hoping things will change themselves. I can't afford a trip around the world...these stories often start with a trip around the world, and as amazing as it sounds to try and find yourself in some foreign country to me it will simply be running away, and honestly I don't think that is what I am supposed to do right now. So I will keep it a little closer to home and focus on the things that I actually can control; my thoughts, the words that come out of my mouth, and the things that enter my body. It is said that if you want to change the world, the best place to start is with yourself, so it is in the spirit of these words that I set out on this inward quest. I call it "The road to Redemption" because I like being overdramatic like that, and also because along the path of losing the little kid inside I did manage to screw up quite a bit and I genuinely want to redeem myself, make things right, forgive myself and let go of all the things that I cannot control, and hopefully learn a few things in the process.

The Road to Redemption -40 Days of reflection.

I have set myself a challenge, I have done this many times before but frankly I am weak-willed and rebellious, so rebellious in fact that I even rebel against challenges I set for myself.  This time however, I am making it official by writing about it so I have to hold myself accountable.

The principles of this challenge are not new, at the heart of it lies sacrifice, giving up earthly pleasures to attain greater clarity of thought. In my time on this earth I have managed to attain quite a few vices. I smoke like a champion, and even though I don't eat my feelings anymore I sure do drink em, I am generally unhealthy and extremely cynical and none of this really serves me. I have come to realise that all of these things are merely distractions that keep me from facing the things I need to face, addictions to fill the void that was left by the departure of the little mullet-haired girl.  

For 40 days I will not smoke or allow alcohol to cross my lips. I will cut out all sugar and caffeine,  I will focus on exercising, and I will write about my experiences every day. The only thing that I can control is myself, and I will start with my body, I will master it by avoiding instant gratification, I will clean out the temple, and perhaps by doing this I will get to know myself again. I have no guarantee that any of this will lead to earth-shattering moments of clarity and wisdom, maybe I will go through terrible withdrawals, become cranky and end up biting someone, maybe nothing happens, or maybe at the end of all of this I simply feel a little bit healthier, whatever the case may be I think it is worth a shot. Who knows maybe I even end up inspiring someone somewhere. Now wouldn’t that be something?

Clarity of thought will off course be reward enough, but I am a firm believer in going out with a bang, so I will end off the 40 days with a photo-shoot. Yes, yes, this is a little vain, and perhaps somewhat silly, not to mention self-indulgent, but I want to show what became of the little mullet-haired girl. I want to show all the incarnations she took on over the years, all the fragments that when combined create in interesting whole...hopefully. It is my way of giving her the crown she never won, oh and let’s be honest sometimes all of us want to feel a little bit pretty...so why not have a photo-shoot?

So here we go The Road to Redemption- 40 Days, will commence tomorrow Monday 18 April 2016. I hope you will come along for the ride.

This is dedicated to those who have, who do, and those who have yet to respect my balls.