Dude Looks Like a Lady!

Why is it with society that transvestites and transexuals are not only laughed at, but often subject to violence? I've spoken with people who shook their heads in disgust when I revealed that I have a transgender friend. "It's not right. God made you a man and you must stay a man."

Really. Have any of these people sat down and spoken to a transgendered person to understand what is happening in them? I would gather they haven't.

I didn't understand the desire to change gender until I asked a few questions of a friend who was making the change. She said she had been born into the wrong body. As a young man, she thought that simply dressing in women's clothes would change that, but it didn't. So, after extensive counselling and searching, she began to make the change.

I find it interesting that men who dress as women are treated as perverts and "sick", when women have been dressing in traditionally male attire for years. Clothes are clothes. What the clothes mean is merely an illusion created by society.

At least, that's my opinion. And opinion is just that: opinion; smoke blown into a glass.

Again, I come back to my theory that a lot of the problems regarding acceptance in society relates directly to a resistance to, or lack of, understanding. Churches and other institutions impose ideals on many people, which are followed blindly. Children are taught to hate. As adults we teach our children who and what to hate. Hate comes from fear, and we fear what we do not understand.

Transgendered people are just that: people. Human beings. They're not freaks or circus shows. They are sensitive, feeling, breathing human beings like anyone else. What does it matter that someone changes gender? If the religious argument is the only one that someone can come up with, they don't actually have much of an argument. You can't change your gender because God/Krishna/Buddha/Allah/Goddess/Great Spirit says so?

Bullshit. If religious theory holds true, then spirit has no gender, so what does it matter what gender your body comes in?

My life philosophy is really simple and is based on three things: respect, compassion and understanding. So what if someone prefers wearing a certain style of clothing not traditionally worn by their gender? So what if someone decides to change their gender? Their are bigger things to worry about in this world than whether someone was born with a penis or not.

From Pro-Life to Pro-Choice

When I tell people these days that I was a Pro-Lifer, I get told that it wasn't something that they had expected me to ever be. Not sure why, but I can guess. I've always been a bit of an outspoken person. I don't really mind who knows my opinion, nor do I care if they disagree or wish to distance themselves from me because of it. Opinions are, after all, opinions.

I used to participate in the Pro-Life marches, phone into radio stations, appear in TV debates. I had the obligatory Pro-Life bumper sticker and the little silver feet that I used to clip to my school blazer and then later, my work clothes.

I was about twenty one when I began to enter the twilight zone of my Pro-Life years. The first Marie Stopes clinic had opened around that time in Johannesburg and it was considered to be the most evil of all evils by Pro-Lifers. We were fed information about it, about what went on in there.

Shortly after the clinic opened, a woman who used to be a friend did something very stupid. She had unprotected sex while she was ovulating. The guy was a one night stand. So she asked me what she should do. I found myself telling her about the Marie Stopes clinic and let her know that she had 72 hours to get the morning after pill. All that Pro-Life information feeding had not been for nothing, eh?

Pro-Lifers are not only about anti-abortion. They are also anti-euthanasia

. My singing teacher, Angela, a vibrant, quirky and absolutely beautiful and active human being, was struck with motor neuron disease. Most people with the disease end up immobilised in their beds, unable to communicate, but being fully aware of what's going on around them. I couldn't think of a worse possible fate for Angela. It would be a nightmare from which no one would be able to release her. Seeing her suffer as she did, my ideas on euthanasia began to quickly change. Luckily (and I know it doesn't sound lucky) the disease killed the nerves in her lungs before she reached the completely immobilised stage and she died a few merciful months after the diagnosis.

I began to distance myself quite a bit from the Pro-Life movement when abortion clinics in the US were being bombed and doctors who advocated abortion were being murdered. I thought it was a huge hypocrisy: someone who believes life is so sacred that they campaign against abortion, yet murder innocent human beings. Ever the one to open her mouth and say something, my concerns were met with with a ridiculous response: "Of course we distance ourselves from people who do that. They are fanatics. Still, a dead abortionist is a good abortionist and in a sense they've done us all a favour."

Hmm. And ALL human life is sacred, eh? I didn't want anything to do with a bunch of hypocrites. Mainly because after the advice I gave my friend, I was being a hypocrite by still pursuing the Pro-Life ideals.

After seeing other friends having to make the choice of whether or not to have an abortion, I revised my views.

Today I hold the view that we have a basic right over our bodies. We decide how we treat the bodies we are given and no one has the right to enforce any restrictions on that at all. I support euthanasia and I would like to draw up a living will. If it comes down to it, I don't want to be kept alive by machines and I know that it would be difficult choice for my loved ones to make. So, I choose to make that decision easier for them.

The Votes Are In and the Author is Out...

The poll has indicated you'll be getting the following in the order you chose:

1. From Pro-Life to Pro-Choice
2. Dude Looks Like a Lady!
3. This is what happened after I got to London...
4. Life in the Rutland Countryside
5. I used to be a Sunday school teacher ( and other adventures in religion)


This will be up after Christmas. Till then, have a good one, every body.

In the meantime, take a look at this NHS revised version of the 12 days of Christmas. Last year at midnight in the UK and 2am in SA, my friend Jose and I sang the NHS new version to each other over skype.

Have a good one. Be safe.
Fa-la-la-la-laaaaa la-la-la-la.

Today is our anniversary. Three years ago, we had a little pagan commitment ceremony. (Isn't Kate looking sweetly butch in her suit?) We haven't done the whole legal civil partnership thing even though we can. We had a spiritual ceremony instead. Also today, Kate and I have been together for four years. And it's Winter Solstice on top of all that. Much celebration!!!

So, my sweetheart, if you are reading my blog today, which I hope you are, I am still very much in love with you. (And sorry I lost my wedding ring!) Happy Anniversary!




ps: I have decided to put some blog entries up to the vote again. This time, you decide which topic gets written first, so rate your favourite and the rest in order of preference. So, if you like Pro Choice to Pro Life the most, give it a one, and so on. Here are the topics:


From Pro-Life to Pro-Choice

Dude Looks Like A Lady!

I Used To Be A Sunday School Teacher (and other Adventures in Religion)

Life in the Rutland Countryside

After I Got To London This Is What Happened...

Review: The Sea Inside

I watched this film at the suggestion of Red and Dori. I am glad I did.

The story revolves around Ramon Sampedro, a quadraplegic, who campaigns for the right to end his life.

This was such a beautifully and sensitively made film. Now, I don't understand a word of Spanish, but I felt the portrayal of characters was really powerful. It is a very moving story, based on the real events in the life of a Galician fisherman.

Did I find it depressing? No. Uplifting? Now. Challenging? Yes.

I used to be a pro-life campaigner. Big time. Used to go on the marches, hold up the placards, wore those little silver baby feet pinned to my school blazer. The whole shebang. Until I started to realise a few things that I hadn't contemplated before. I won't bore you with the whole story (but if you want me to blog about what changed me from pro-life to pro choice, I'd be happy to do that - leave a comment or send me an email), but the film reflected back to me how much my own feelings towards this subject has changed.

My only beef with the film was that sometimes the subtitles were difficult to read. Otherwise, it's definitely one of those you should put on your list.

What interested me more was the story of the REAL Ramon Sampedro. So I found the following links for anyone who is interested:

Wikipedia

Time Article

It was fascinating to me how many people felt that they had a right to say something about what this man should do: should he end his life? Should he not? The church got involved. The government. All the while, his family stood quietly by, watching.

Sampedro says in the movie (to paraphrase) that if someone truly loved him, they would let him end his life. And that got me to thinking about grief and dying and how we are so keen to keep our terminally sick loved ones with us without thinking of what is happening to them. I sometimes wonder if we are more compassionate to our animals by allowing them to be euthanased.

Since the issue of euthanasia has come up with my father (who is quite fine at the moment, thank you), watching this was difficult, even though it's a completely different situation.

I hope this sparks debate, but I hope also that it allows for respectful and open-minded exchanges.

As for me? I am all for euthanasia. But that is another story.

An Update of Sorts

Built for Speed...

I have updated Loving What I See in light of yesterday's blog. I am back on the wagon.

Spiritual Stuff

I have begun to read Eckhart Tolle's book, The Power of Now, and it has begun to alter my perspective of the world.

I have also taken on board my yoga teacher's words. She told me that everything is energy - even money is energy - and that when you start seeing everything as energy, you will want to invest your energy more wisely.

And this is so very true.

I have been panicking about my finances and what to do about them, and this weekend I sat down and did my budget for January and instead of seeing the figures I wrote down as money, I saw them as energy. This energy that I was investing was keeping a roof over my head, bought healthcare for my cats, paid for my car, my council tax, the water I drink, the food I eat.... And this is what I am giving myself. And if I think of the money I am spending as stuff that I give myself, the whole thing changes.

I do feel that the energy I put into paying off my debts is wasted, but I do think that this perception will be changing.

Looking at the numbers for my budget made me ask, "Do I really want to invest energy in XYZ?" For example, some of the energy I spend on feeding myself goes to foods that are harmful to my body - do I really want to invest energy actively in something that will kill me? Would I do that to a person I love? HELL NO!

From this place I feel empowered. I feel that I AM capable of changing my circumstances.

My Dad

My sister has arranged a nurse to look in on my Dad during the day. This has had a profound effect on him, because it's brought about the realisation that the only limitation he faces with his disease, are the ones he imposes on himself. This could mean that he could regain some of his independence and the nurse feels she can have him driving again by the end of January. It was great to hear my dad's voice. He sounded so upbeat and he was as excited as a little boy when he told me that he had been able to blow up a balloon.

And I take blowing up a balloon for granted. And for my dad, that's a milestone. Wow.

Creativity

I am also reading (at the same time as Ekhart Tolle's book) a book called The Van Gogh Blues by Eric Maisel. It relates to how to deal with depression, particularly for creative people. Having experienced a depressive episode that kicked in around July and which has completely flattened my creativity, I thought I'd give it a go. And it really is good. I am starting to feel more creative and some of my old self is returning, which is such a relief.

What this means is that I feel I can go back to doing Dangerdykes as soon as the New Year (although I am toying with a Christmas special, but that remains to be seen since I have a drumkit to finish off customising in time for Christmas).

Fatties' Days Are Numbered!

BBC News reports that fat people are bankrupting the NHS.

In a bid to reduce obesity in the uk, the government has suggested the following:

* Health checks, including waist and weight measurements, for all school leavers

* Stricter planning regulations to only allow new housing complexes if they have sports facilities and green parks nearby

* Funds for obesity surgery for people with a body mass index of over 40

* Tax on processed food high in sugar and salt

* Only allow new urban roads if they have cycle lanes

According to my doctor, my BMI indicates that I am obese. Looks like I won't be for long. Blood fricken Nanny State. Earlier this year, they were debating whether doctors should refuse obese people treatment for obesity related illness. Oh... and now they want to put a help line phone number on the labels of larger sized clothes so that people like me can phone and get help.

Blech. My size 22 days are going to be coming to an end. I suppose I better get back on the wagon or face the humiliation.

Anouk - Nobody's wife

This is the song I spoke about in a previous post that was popular in Holland at the time that I began to feel uncomfortable as a wife

High School Friends

In high school, I hung out with a group of geeks, freaks and misfits. I am glad I did. We were a creative bunch with very individual personalities and we were very happy to be set apart from the popular bunch and chic clique. In fact, we prided ourselves in our differences and quirks. Besides, I think that the group was by far more interesting.

My longest standing friend was Dori. Dori and I have been in each other's lives now for something like 20 years. We lost touch for about 3 or 4 years after we finished school. My mother felt Dori was a bad influence and had decided that I was not to phone her or hang out with her anymore. And I also think that getting involved with University and college we both explored different roads. But it was wonderful to meet up with her again. As soon as I was married and out of my mother's house (and back from honeymoon) I got Dori's number from her mum and made contact.

Ralphie was a fantastic pal in high school. Loved metal, was a bit of a rebel, but really sweet. Only stayed for a year or so and then vanished. Not a word. Nothing. Two years ago, I received an email from him through SAReunited. (How fabulous is technology, eh?) And just like that, Ralph is a part of my life again, just as though those intervening years never happened.

I haven't really tried to find out what happened to many of the people I knew in high school. There were a few I was curious to know what happened to. Glen, who was a bit of a hippy and stoner, is now a rabbi. I can't remember who told me that. Then there was Paul The Slut, who bragged about losing his virginity at 15 to an older woman and who believed he was the reincarnation of Jim Morrison. I bumped into him on a visit to South Africa four years ago and he was working as an extra for TV shows. Tony's profile on SAReunited announced that he was working as a scuba instructor in the Bahamas.

I have tried to reconnect with a few other friends from high school, but the spark just isn't there. We were different people then, who moved off in different directions, and the friendship we remembered having is not viable in our new incarnations.

Some friendships die immediately after the last day of school. One girl told me, after I called her a couple of months after school finished, "That was high school. I really don't want to talk to you or see you again." I have NO idea what I did to piss her off. Weird.

Other friendships fade and then wink out. Some people simply lose touch with each other because of the sudden urgency life takes on after leaving school. Most of the people who have contacted me through SAReunited have been people I used to have a lot in common with, but not so much now. The gap created by growing into our lives and into our selves have been far too wide. Then again, with just a handful of people, it feels like there was no time between us at all, and that we have simply picked our friendship up where we had left off. And that is somthing special.

My 200th Blog Post

This just snuck up on me. I didn't realise that today's post would be my 2ooth! I was just going to write a bit about my friends from High School.

200 posts? Have I reallyspewed out that much rubbish?

That's a lot of writing and without a doubt, would make an impressive word count. Hell, I'd have a novel by now if I stuck exclusively to one topic.

I originally started blogging here because my pal, Purplesimon, suggested that it was a good way to plumb one's creativity and to get some writing out. So my intention was to write up my short stories and stick them up on the web.

I have written fewer stories and more vignettes, reviews, bits of rubbish and my ficiton blog, Tastes Like Llama, has been sadly neglected. At some point during this year, I turned into a blogging maniac. And sadly, these have been neglected too.

My creative energy has not been quite the same since July. Not sure why. I reckon that I have been joining several other bloggers in wondering what the purpose of my own blog should be. Quite a few people, like Chris, have changed their approach, while others, like Purplesimon, have elected to leave the blogosphere for the time being.

Having 200 posts up here has made me question my whole approach to blogging. I have several blogs, which I have not been able to update as regularly as I would like. I am thinking of getting rid of one or two, perhaps consolodating some... Not sure. But I do think a new approach for 2007 would be in order. Not sure what, though.

I like this particular blog because it is personal and it has all my reviews on it. I am going to have to have a serious think about the rest.

In the meantime, enjoy! Tomorrow we'll resume the regular service, with my third voted for piece: High School Friends.

BLOG WRITER IN SHOCK REVELATION: "My life as a housewife in Holland!"

The ex-Mr Tanya and I lived in Holland for around 10 months while he did his work-abroad-earn-loads-of-dosh thing. After living for a month in a hotel in Assen , we found a flat to rent in the nearby town of Groningen.

The flat was located on Almastraat, above a shop that sold fake silk and plastic flower displays. The flat itself was over-decorated with these fake monstrosities that filled my nose up with their dusty-plastic smell. It was furnished with dark wood and dark leather and the beds were old and tired looking with mattresses that sagged in the middle. The kitchen was functional, but limited and the bathroom was huge. It was an odd, depressing little place. ( I later discovered that the flat was not in the most favourable of neighbourhoods in the town after a new Dutch friend refused to visit me there because of the flat's location!)

Previously, while living in Israel and in Assen, I grew accustomed to days becoming great vacuums of nothingness. Living in Holland, these spaces announced themselves more loudly, and finding something to fill them became something of an obsession. The only way I could see to do this, was to build my life around a routine. After some negotiation with Mr Tanya, it was agreed that to keep me occupied I could join a gym, take singing and piano lessons and go to an art class.


I used to get up around 8:00 in the morning, and if it was a Tuesday or Thursday, I would make my way directly to the gym for an aerobics class that started at 9:00. If it was a Monday, or Wednesday (Fridays were different), I would go into the gym and get onto the treadmill for 45 minutes and then do weights for another 45 minutes afterwards. If the fancy struck me, I would use the gym's steam room. Usually, this would snip 2 hours out of my day. After that, I showered and changed, ready to leave. This would usually take me through to 11:30 or midday.


Then it was my favourite time of day: I went down to News Cafe and got myself a cup of coffee - or two - and sat there and read the Dutch newspapers or the USA Today. I loved sitting in News Cafe. It was quiet and I had space to myself. I rarely stayed beyond 1pm and I only ordered lunch there about four times.


So, that, at least, was the hours from 9am through to 1pm taken care of. That was four hours removed from the void.

Afternoon activities varied. I would usually go from the town centre to buy groceries and cycle back home to have lunch. Or, if cabin fever had made itself felt more painfully that particular day, I would window shop. Usually, I went home.

Mondays I had a singing lesson at 2pm. Tuesdays, Wednesdays and Thursdays I would clean the house from top to bottom - dust, vacuum, tidy, polish, sanitise - and then, the washing. The whole thing took around an hour and a half or two, depending on how much washing there was to do. Finally, I would sit down to read, or go for a walk, or write letters or watch television until 5:30, when I put the dinner on for Mr Tanya, ready for when he walked in at 6pm. I was such a textbook housewife!

Life was dull and gray most of the time, lived in isolation. Apart from one time, while cleaning the house, I looked out across the street into the flats opposite and caught sight of two men having sex. And there was the day that a driver lost control of her car and plowed through the fake flowershop's window.

Fridays were great days. I looked forward to Fridays. I went to the art class from 9am to midday. Then home to grab some lunch and then out again to be at my piano lesson at 3pm. I loved Fridays. The cycle to the piano lesson was usually an 80 minute round trip, and usually exhilerating.

Most of the time I was alone. I taught myself to speak Dutch through adapting my existing Afrikaans. I learned through watching the Dutch news, reading newspapers and through making two Dutch friends who helped me along nicely.

After 10 months of solitude and having to depend on my ex for everything, I made my way to London alone to seek my fortune and independence. I left promising to write to a smattering of Dutch people, but that promise fizzled out after a few months. Holland had changed me in strange and subtle ways. Secret ways that I had not even begun to realise. While I quietly observed my life from the vantage point of housewife, from a place of solitude, powerful changes had begun to take place.

Holland was to be both my awakening and my undoing.

Coming Tomorrow: My 200th blog post!!!

The Shell Wive's Club

Back in 1998, I joined the ex-Mr Tanya in Holland for what was meant to be a six month stint of him doing his computer consulting thing.

I was alone much of the time and had no friends. Mr Tanya on the other hand made friends easily with the people he worked with, and after about a month and a bit of our stay, he came home to joyfully announce that the company he was consulting for, a huge oil corporation, actually had a wive's club. I could make friends there! He had made a few enquiries and there were loads of English-speaking women - from the UK, USA and New Zealand - who were apparently part of this network. (And yes, the name of the club actually WAS the Shell Wive's Club.)

The name of the group did put me off. I hated being called a "wife" (no wonder the whole marriage thing didn't work out, eh?). Nevertheless, I was desperate for company, as I had already driven myself crazy for a month with only Mr Tanya for company in the evening, I agreed to meet whoever it was I was supposed to meet.

So, Mr Tanya arranged that we go mudwalking with this couple from New Zealand. The guy worked with Mr Tanya and his wife ran the Shell Wive's Club. We all got on very well, and I thought she was a lovely person. She seemed bright and intelligent. They had a six month old baby (who I believe was being cared for by a nanny the day we did the walk). We seemed to have similar interests and we all had a great time that day.

What I didn't realise was that this was simply a tactic to lull me into a false sense of security.

A week or so later, this woman (I forget her name so let's call her "Alice" as in who-the-fuck-is) rang me up to invite me for a cup of coffee in the town. We would be joined, she said, by another young woman from England who was joining her consultant boyfriend over in Holland. Delighted for some company, I agreed and got on my bike and cycled into town on the appointed day.

I was greeted by Alice and this tall, willowy slim blonde English woman (who, I ashamedly admit, made me feel a little weak at the knees). She seemed like a lovely, effervescent woman, who wore a ready smile along with her enthusiasm We were introduced and we ordered coffee. Blonde then explained that she was an equestrian vet (OH! even MORE attractive now) and that her fiance was consulting. She had hoped that by joining this network, she would make friends (as I did) and figure out what she needed to do to find work as an equestrian vet in Holland. "I will even do regular vet work," I remember her saying, "I just want to work and I don't want to rely on Mark (I think his name was) for everything."

I smiled happily along, thinking this was all very nice as I sipped my cappuccino and nibbled my Cafe Noir biscuit, when Alice opened her mouth and revealed the True Agenda of the Shell Wives Club.

"That's all very nice, Blonde," she said, "But we must remember why we're REALLY here." Alice paused - I think for effect - before she added, "We're here for our men. Our needs come second. We are supporting them and we must put aside our own desires in order to stand by them."

WTF? Was this 1953? Had I crossed over to another dimension? Did she just say what I think she said? Am I in Stepford???

I thought about all these zombie-like robot women being the perfect wife and docile and submissive. This was actually quite scary. I then saw a vision of myself as a Stepford Zombie Woman with a cheery smile fixed to my face, my hair always perfect and always willing to submit to my husband's desires. A song called Nobody's Wife, which was popular in Holland at the time, began to play on a loop in my head.

Suddenly my biscuit turned to cardboard. I looked over at Blonde. There was a quiet shock about her now. No smile. No bubbly enthusiasm. "With due respect," she said after a time, "I am a vet. A professional. I have a career, which I would like to develop irrespective of whether I am in England or Holland."

"We put that aside for our men," said (who-the-fuck-is) Alice. "You can have a career later. Once your kids are grown."

The flicker of emotion across Blonde's face was very subtle, but I caught it. It was a mixture of disgust, anger and pity all thrown together and it was gone almost as quickly as it had appeared. "I am sure, " she said with a smile, "I will discuss this with Mark." She swallowed what was left of her coffee and left.

Then Alice turned her gaze on me. "So," she said. "I hear you would like to make some friends." I nodded. What the hell was she going to do to me?

"Well," she said with a smug little smile, "That's easy to fix. Have a baby. A baby is your passport into any of the women's network of ex-pats. You'll make loads of friends."

The vision of Stepford Wife with Stepford Baby floated through my head. Horror!

That was it. I didn't even finish my coffee. I thanked Alice, smiled nicely and said that I didn't think the Shell Wive's Club would suit me. I related the whole sorry tale to Mr Tanya.

A few days later, he informed me that Mark and Blonde had split up and she had returned to England. I remember thinking, "Good for her!"

I reckon I had a narrow escape. I could have been a Shell Wife.

The Votes Are In!

Calibrated from emails and comments, the winner is:

The Shell Wive's Club!!

Second place goes to Housewife in Holland

3rd - High School Friends

And no one was interested at all in Adventures in Religion or What I Did At The Weekend.

SO! Over the next 3 days, the 3 most voted for topics will be up on this here blog for your reading pleasure!

Watch out also for the two suggested topics I received:

Pinochet died on International Human Rights day. Discuss.

AND

"I Like Mittens"

(Not that I know what to say about them, but...)

Creatively Stumped.

I have no idea what to write about. After visiting the BBC News website, I thought I should write about my Adventures in Religion. Then I thought I might talk about my close shave with The Shell Wive's Club. Or the friends I had in high school or just what the weekend entailled.

And I have no clue what to write about today. So, in the view of democracy, let me know what you would like me to write about. I don't (won't) often do this, but go on, pick a topic from these:

Adventures in Religion

The Shell Wive's Club

High School Friends

What I Did At the Weekend

My Time as a Housewife in Holland


Votes will be counted and tomorrow you will get to see the winning post. (The other posts will appear at some point, so don't panic if yours doesn't win.) And, to make it interesting, suggest a topic of your own....

LIST: Books Read in 2006

I set myself a goal this year to read 5 books by December. Now it's December and I have read 6 books. Last year the goal was to read 12 books, but I read 24. I didn't want to try and top that, and knowing I would be studying this year, I lowered the bar a touch, to a goal I felt would be realistic.

I can't find the complete list of stuff I read in 2005. I will post it when I find it. My record keeping for 2006, however has definitely been better.

My rating system is simple:

1 = Don't waste your time
2 = Worth a read, but get it out the library
3 = Fantastic work of literature! READ THIS!
4 = Buy this book! ( if you are interested in this sort of thing)
5 = EVERYONE should read this. Buy it and buy a copy for your friends!

So... here we go:

1. The Buddha in Daily Life by Richard Causton - 4
The basic precepts of Nichiren Daishonin. Quite involved and really good. If this is your thing, buy it and read it more than once. Because the concepts are quite involved and deep you will definitely need to read it more than once. Probably page per page as you go.

2. The Cutting Room by Louise Walsh - 2
This is Walsh's first novel. Her style takes some getting used to and the story starts out fine, but there are too many twists and turns from the middle onwards. It is worth a read, but only if you get it out of the library.

3. The Biggest Secret by David Icke - 2
David Icke believes that green lizard aliens and the freemasons are behind every major conspiracy in the world. Interesting.

4. Working with Your Chakras by Ruth White - 4
If this is your bag, you'll be delighted at the insightful information that Ruth White provides. She gives chakra healing exercises and in-depth discussion on each individual chakra! Make this part of your personal libary.

5. Why Your Life Sucks (And What You Can Do About It) by Alan Cohen - 5
Even if your life doesn't suck, Cohen's down to earth and no nonsense insights will definitely help you to identify where you may be wasting your energy, and how you might remedy that. FANTASTIC.

6. Broken Music by Sting - 2
Sting's autobiography. This man was a schoolteacher? He mixes his tenses in a dizzying fashion, but I quite enjoyed reading this one despite that, even though the tenses thing drove me to distraction. If you're a fan of Sting give it a go. It's a fair attempt as autobiographies go. I doubt it was ghost written.

Possible Money Making Ideas (UPDATE)

Thanks all who emailled or commented with your ideas on how I could boost my current income. I so greatly appreciate your input and the exercise has made me feel excited and helped me to tackle this thing with renewed inspiration and enthusiasm. So, here is a review:

Quick Fix

1. Sell My Car
Maybe later, but not yet. I may need my car for some of the activities I have come up with (see list below) so best to hold on to that just for now. Things have not yet entered that most bottom of the barrel stage.

2. Sell My Jewellery
I will sell my engagement ring. It means nothing to me now and I won't miss it. However, I will keep my mother's engagement ring.

3. Sell Some Stuff
List books, CDs and some other stuff on eBay and sell 'em. Books, I suppose, could go up on Amazon as well.


Touch and Go
* Creative coaching sessions
* Tarot Readings
* Reiki Healing (will need car to travel)
* Aromatherapy and Indian Head Massage (will need car)
* Do some freelance writing
* Sell my short stories
* Make and sell artwork
* Design stuff for T-Shirts and sell them off Cafepress
* Get advertising on my blog???


Other
* Keep trying to find that elusive weekend or evening job

* I did hear to day that as long as they can find me the students, I will possibly be presenting another creative writing course in January.

Your thoughts?

DAMN! I shoulda thoughta that!

Some ideas come along and they are so simple and so effective that we all kick ourselves for not coming up with it.

This is just one such idea.

ZAK THE BRAT

Aw. Isn't he cute? Sleepy little Zak on the new couch with his pom pom toy. Bless. Such an angel.

NOT.

Kate and I put the Christmas tree up on Saturday and congratulated ourselves that we managed to get it up with hardly any cat involvement whatsoever. In fact, the felines were more interested in the box the tree came in.

Our biggest concern had been that Zak would be tearing the tree down shortly after it had gone up, but to our amazement, he barely glanced at the tree, preferring to play with Lucifer in the tree's box.

This lasted exactly two days.

The little buggers had worked out a careful strategy this year, and having lulled Kate and I into a false sense of security (how they must have sniggered watching our smug little faces), attacked the tree at dawn yesterday. Baubles were scattered all over the lounge floor.

Kate took Zak to the vet yesterday for his "snip and chip". We thought that for at least a day Zak would be too out of it to try any naughtiness. Upon my return from work, a shattered looking Kate sat at the couch looking stunned. She held out the vet's aftercare sheet, "It says here that the cat may be drowsy for about 24 hours. Drowsy? Drowsy fuck!"

Zak, glassy eyed and crazy, was tearing around the house. This morning, going down into the lounge, we discovered to our horror that Zak has learned how to climb the tree.

Ho ho ....... ho.

Some Quotes from Nelson Mandela

Christmas is supposed to be the season of tolerance and peace. Regardless of what people may think of him, Nelson Mandela paved the way to peaceful integration in South Africa. There are many people who believe he isn't a good man - many members of my family, to say the least - however, he was able to begin the process of healing in a country that so desperately needed it at the time.

To mark the start of the season of brotherly love, peace, joy and all that, a few quotes from former South African President, Mr Nelson Mandela:

"No one is born hating another person because of the color of his skin, or his background, or his religion. People must learn to hate, and if they can learn to hate, they can be taught to love, for love comes more naturally to the human heart than its opposite."

and


"Our deepest fear is not that we are inadequate. Our deepest fear is that we are powerful beyond measure. It is our light, not our darkness that most frightens us. We ask ourselves, Who am I to be brilliant, gorgeous, talented, fabulous? Actually, who are you not to be? You are a child of God. Your playing small does not serve the world. There is nothing enlightened about shrinking so that other people won't feel insecure around you. We are all meant to shine, as children do. We were born to make manifest the glory of God that is within us. It's not just in some of us; it's in everyone. And as we let our own light shine, we unconsciously give other people permission to do the same. As we are liberated from our own fear, our presence automatically liberates others"

I hate December.

Bastard strapped-for-cash month. Arse.

This month, after doing my budget, I have calculated I have:

I have £ 30 (US $58 - ZAR 420) left over for emergencies. (Or to spend on myself should no emergencies arise.)

This so totally sucks.

That's it. That's all I have for December. After all my bills, groceries and the few Christmas gifts I can afford to buy. Like I am going to get myself to South Africa on this kind of budget, right?

I am kicking myself for not having a degree or some amazing qualification that gets me to do some fantastic job. I am angry that I allowed a stupid bastard use me for money and leave me in debt. I am tired of spending the last 6 years of my life worrying about money. AAAARRRRRRGGHHH!!!

My sister is thinking of getting my dad a nurse to take care of him during the night and I will have to conrtibute to that.

Will someone PLEASE give me the winning lottery numbers?

Hate bloody December!


(The rant is now over. Normal programming will resume shortly.)

Stories from My Life: My Saturn Return Experience

Aah. I remember it well. You never forget the 2 or more years of sheer hell and agony that Saturn Return brings you. Usually, the influence kicks of for the first time around the age of 27 or 28 and takes you right up to the age of 30. I often refer to that period of my life as my "years of reckoning."

What is Saturn Return? Well... I prepared an explanation over on The Esotericon, if you're interested.

I had the (not so) good fortune of having my Saturn Return, along with a great number of my peers, begin in 2000, when the energy of a changing millennium was peaking and presenting its own influence and change in the world. For many of us, that Saturn Return was probably going to be the hardest we would face.

In the space of just a few short years, I got divorced, got involved with the wrong person, left the wrong person, lost 3 jobs, moved out of London, lost my mother, came out, met Kate, moved in with her. A pretty tumultuous time.

If I am honest with myself, I felt this life change coming back in the August of 1999, when I had a short, but transformational affair with a woman named Rachel. By December, gazing up at my ex-husband on a beach on old year's eve, 1999, I knew my marriage was over. I knew it deep down in my gut. The realisation was conscious, not a fleeting whisp of an idea. It felt concrete and reverberated around my skull. I couldn't marry up the atmosphere - the beach, midnight, watching fireworks over Plettenberg Bay to ring in the New Year with joy - and my knowledge that I felt in my bones that soon my marriage would come to an end.

In numerology, 2007 is a 9 year, which means that everything that began about 9 or so years ago, will be coming to a close. There will be resolution. So, the echoes of 1999, which was a significant year in so many respects, are going to be dying away soon.

1999. The year I announced that I had had enough of being a housewife in Holland and that I was going to London to work. (I had not worked since we had left South Africa nearly a year previously and hated having to rely on the ex-husband for money. Ironically, the ex-husband's family later claimed I had only married him for money. I did think that was funny.) It was the year I had an affair with Rachel. It was the year I knew my marriage was over. It was the last year of "life as I knew it".

Actually experiencing the changes was no fun. It was painful, insightful, chaotic. I lost a great many things, but I realise I had to lose them in order to have the life I have now, a life that I truly enjoy living. I likened it to a forest fire. Once the destruction had past, and the earth begins to recover, the first new shoots appear. That's really how I would best describe Saturn Return.

Do you have a Saturn Return story? Would like to hear about it.

And If That Wasn't Bad Enough!

Dragon sausages...

From The Times:

'Dragon' sausages burnt by trade laws
By Simon de Bruxelles

A SPICY sausage known as the Welsh Dragon will have to be renamed after trading standards’ officers warned manufacturers that they could face prosecution because it does not contain dragon.

The sausages will now have to be labelled Welsh Dragon Pork Sausages to avoid any confusion among customers.

Jon Carthew, 45, who makes the sausages, said yesterday that he had not received any complaints about the absence of real dragon meat. He said: “I don’t think any of our customers believe that we use dragon meat in our sausages. We use the word because the dragon is synonymous with Wales.”

His company, the Black Mountains Smokery at Crickhowell, in Powys, turns out 200,000 sausages a year, including the Welsh Dragon, which is made with chilli, leek and pork. A Powys County Council spokesman said: “The product was not sufficiently precise to inform a purchaser of the true nature of the food.”

Throwing a Sickie

So, you've decided you'd like to take a week off work and chill out at home. But you need a sick note... so what do you do?

Hopefully, not what THIS guy did!

Too lazy to click the link?


'Pregnant' man fined in SA court

A South African man has been fined $140 for taking a week off work, telling his employers he was pregnant.

Charles Sibindana, 27, stole a certificate from a clinic during his pregnant girlfriend's checkup, a court near Johannesburg heard.

He then added his own details to the note and submitted it and took seven days off work, seemingly unaware that only women consult gynaecologists.

His employers became suspicious and investigated the matter.

On passing sentence Magistrate Bruno Van Eeden warned Mr Sibindana "not to walk around faking sick letters from gynaecologists" as if he was pregnant, the South African Press Association news agency reported.

OH DEAR.

DR.ALBAN FEAT YAMBOO - Sing hallelujah 2005

Brings back memories. I found this sooooped up version on Youtube. It always makes me think of the art room, Dori, smoking cigarettes in the art room with the art teacher and, of course, Tony Delport who used to insist we listen to his Dr Alban tapes while we worked. The only good school memory I can say I have.

Weekend Madness

Kate and I got up late on both Saturday and Sunday. I didn't have the time to do my Dangerdykes updates, although I did get some cards done.

I had my very first shopping experience at Toys 'R' Us.

I realised very quickly, upon entering this magic cavern of delights, that it's a place that is probably best visited without child in tow. We got to hear much whingeing, tantrums and crying, not to mention one parent yelling at the top of her lungs that she was "not going to stand for that kind of behaviour in a shop filled with people!!"

Yes.

After locating gifts for our youngest niece, Ayla, we sauntered along the aisles, just looking.

Then it happens. Kate spots the new range of (*shudder*) furbies.

Kate asked, "Do you want to get a furbie?"

I replied, "Do you want to get a divorce?"

Furbie avoided, we congratulated ourselves on our good purchases and left the store. I think we were the only ones to come out unscathed as we didn't have any children begging and screaming and making scenes.

I love being an auntie.

Dire Straits - Money For Nothing

Blast from the past. Woke up with this song in my head.

The graphics were so cool when it first came out. Apparently Sting plays the bass and does backing vocals on this track.

The Killing of Sister George

Dreadfully over-acted. Undertones of psycho-sado-masochism.

The story revolves around the relationship between "George" and her lover, "Alice". When George finds out she is being axed from a soap opera that's become her lifeblood, she goes a little potty, but you get the feeling she was a little potty to begin with.

See the women smiling in the poster to the left? They don't do much smiling in the film.

The film was originally based on a play and was meant to be taken lightly. However, the film version didn't cast a favourable light on lesbians. And I have a feeling that the blame for all the crap lesbian movies ever made should be laid squarely at this film's front door. Director Robert Aldrich portrays lesbians as completely psychotic or immature, alcoholic, bad tempered, badly behaved and only after sex.

While I am sure there are some out there, it is rather unfortunate that this stereotype has stuck.

It's rubbish, but I will admit that I have seen worse rubbish than this.

On the lesbian movie rating scale, where 1 is the oh-so-dire Claire of the Moon and 10 being the intriguing and dark Fingersmith, this film scores a generous 3.

Unless you want to satisfy your curiosity about early lesbian movies, don't waste your time.

The Evil Spider Woman Has Me By The Short Rabbits

Yah-hah!

All plans for getting creative were recently derailed by the car battery malarchy that began on Tuesday.

The story begins at the start of winter, when I notice that my little white car has some trouble getting itself started. I figured, like me, the cold mornings lend themselves to reluctant starts. I continued to think this until Tuesday evening when the car failed to start at all and the man from the AA had to be called. I walked to work yesterday morning and got a lift back home in the evening. Luckily I got the car started first thing and trundled up to the garage. And £44.00 I didn't plan on spending and one big karmic lesson later: Hey! Presto! New battery, starting car.

The Universe keeps trying to teach me that my stubborn pride is not helping me. I can recall at least five times this year this lesson has been thrown at me. So now I am going to put myself forward to learn that it's ok to ask for help, that I don't HAVE TO do this all by myself. That, in fact, I am making things HARDER by insisting I do it all by myself. ALL THE TIME. Especially when I get stubborn. Or proud. There's a joke in our family that you get stubborn and then you get The O Family Stubborn. Which is far, FAR, worse.

Some of this also comes from my mother, who taught us not to ask for help, to be independent. Some of this comes from when I was a kid and my parents didn't have much money and I stopped asking them for money for stuff I needed for school projects, because my mother was always saying things like, "Ok, we'll do that, but that means we have to go a bit short this month." Of course, I would get into trouble at school, and had to learn that asking for stuff for school was ok. Asking for anything else wasn't. And then there was the time my mom insisted I sing for her at her whim, as she was paying for singing lessons. I didn't want to and told her so. She said that if I wanted her to pay for the lessons, then I will sing when she wanted me to sing. I got a part time job on a Friday and Saturday and paid for my own damn lessons and gave my dad some money for petrol to give me a lift to the class each week.

See? Stubborn AND proud. The Universe really knows to hit where it hurts. But that's the point. That's quite a big karmic package that has several facets to it. And looking at it from here I can see a whole lot of tangled shit in several different layers. The Universe obviously thinks I am ready to unwrap and unpack this piece of my family and personal karma... so here goes. Nam-myoho-renge-kyo.

Instead of getting down to doing some comic strips and some writing last night, I spent last night watching a DVD. The Killing of Sister George (review to follow). SO... hopefully some new Dangerdykes and other oddments by the weekend. Hoorah!

MARCELLA THEODORA O

13 October 1942 - 22 November 2001

My mother died suddenly, five years ago. Massive heart attack. I inherited much of her facial features, which means I look younger than I really am. I also inherited her wit, her sense of mischief and her creativity. Her legacy, however, also left me with the same mental illness that finds the odd occasion to steal up on me in the dark to plunge me into the blackest depths of despair.

She complained of chest pains and a visit to the doctor, where she was hooked up to an ECG machine revealed nothing out of the ordinary and she was sent home. Forty-five minutes later she was dead.

I spent almost all of what was left of my savings to fly out to South Africa for her funeral. I sang Schubert's Ave Maria, delivered the eulogy and was one of the pall bearers.

What I remember about her isn't all good. In fact, it's fair to say that a lot of what I remember is not good at all. Still, she had the ability to listen and mete out sensible advice. She was a gracious hostess who embraced causes that were close to her heart and worked tirelessly to help a lot of people. I remember saying in the eulogy that Mom liked to fight the good fight and stood up for what she believed in. She had strong opinions and like me, didn't feel she couldn't speak her mind. We built the rockery in the garden together when I was five. I was too small to pick the stones up, but I helped her mark out its borders and pointed out where I thought the stones should go.

She indulged my eccentricities, mostly because she was a little eccentric herself. And she was beautiful.

The last time I spoke to her was just after her 59th birthday, a month prior to her death. She was in good spirits, and indeed, my auntie Carol told me that Mom had been in high spirits the day before she died too. She had gone to get her hair trimmed by Carol and was laughing and joking, discussing her plans for the future.

Perhaps one story I can tell you about her would sum up her character better than any description I can contrive:

Mom grew up poor. At the age of six, she saw a pair of bright shiny red shoes in a shop window and wanted so badly to have them. She knew she couldn't ask for the money, so she ran errands for other people, saving every penny she could until she was able to walk into that shop and buy those shoes herself.

I hope I have inherited some of that spirit too.

Tears for Fears - Mad World

My Soul Needs a Holiday

If only I could afford it, but... need to save for a trip to see my Dad in SA next year. If I was able to wing it, though, what a fab choice of soul holidays to have:

Findhorn

Healing down in Cornwall

A Yoga retreat in the UK

or

A Yoga retreat in Bali.

*sigh*

My Own Take On Things...


My word, my post on gay marriages in South Africa has generated a lot of interest, following some of the less-than-supportive comments left on the BBC website by many people from a variety of African countries.

Here are my thoughts on the subject I threw out into the blogosphere:

First of all, it really frustrates me that there are people out there who would gladly employ violence or torture to gay and transgendered individuals than to allow them to live peaceful, happy lives. Many of these people belong to religious groups that preach love and acceptance of one's fellow human. I am not just referring to the Judeo-Christian set up. I know a girl in Singapore, who belongs to my own Buddhist teaching - Nichiren Buddhism - whose parents would disown her if she revealed she's a lesbian, as would a number of other members. Nichiren Buddhism teaches us about love, acceptance and has no problem with people being gay, yet this girl and others like her, are being ostracised because of their sexuality.

Part of the problem is cultural and the way the LGBT community is regarded in society at large. The other part of the problem, I feel, is that people tend to look past the gay PERSON and see, instead (at least what they conjure up themselves), a SEXUAL act. They see the relationship between same-sex couples as something fuelled exclusively by lust, not love. And therein lies the problem.

When I was about 14 or 15 my parents made me read a book entitled The Gay Nineties. It was one of this Christian gay hating books that went on and on and on about how gay people are promiscuous, dirty and spread disease. How gay people have an "agenda" to undermine the sanctity of Christian family life. How gay people purposefully set out to "corrupt and convert" young straight people and mess with their minds. How all gay people are really paedophiles waiting to happen, which is why gay people should never be allowed to have children. Lesbians want to spoil the delicate virginal flower of a straight girl. Gay men are only after satisfying their appetites.

Read that paragraph again, take out the word "gay", replace it with the word "Jew", the word "Christian" with the word, "Volksland", and you have Hitler's philosophy almost verbatim. And the book was written by a devout Christian. A Christian who would no doubt balk at the word "Nazi" being thrown at him. An American Christian to boot, who would no doubt be proud of America's involvement in whipping some Nazi arse back in WW II.

Sadly, these myths about gay people have prevailed. Yes, there are promiscuous gay people just as there are promiscuous heterosexual people. From where I am standing, Christian Family Life - or any family life for that matter - doesn't seem to need the help of gay people to undermine it. Straight people are doing a great job all on their own.

What I find most laughable is the whole "gay agenda". What gay agenda? Did I miss out on something? Was there a memo that was sent out to every other gay, trans, lesbian and bi person except for me? Apparently, according to my mother, rest her soul, the "Gays want to liberalise the world so that it will pave the way for widespread pervsity and paedophilia. Then the Devils can walk right in and take over because people will have no morals. Look at Sodom and Gomorrah." Yeah. Right. That makes sense.

The funniest explanation I have come across for "the gay agenda" was that gay, lesbian, bi and trans people were all possessed by demons working for the Devil. The Devil's aim is to get as many souls into Hell and away from God as he can, so he uses sex to do that - perverse sex. Hell is pretty damn crowded then, I think, and Heaven must be really lonely with just a handful of Saints and the odd Pope roaming around. Nah... scratch that. You never know with the Catholic clergy.

What is wrong with two consenting adults loving each other? We don't harm anyone, and love is by far a better option than violence, misunderstanding and condemning people to eternal damnation.

Love and let others love. There is no greater gift than love that one human being can give to another. Pack in the prejudice, open hearts and minds and just let everything be...

Gogol Bordello - start wearing purple

This is the origin of my blog name. LOVE this song. And LOVE the colour purple. Enjoy.

A poem, over on Tastes Like Llama.

Same-Sex Unions Legalised in South Africa

Despite how prejudiced South Africa has been in the past, it seems to have embraced the idea of equality with much vigour, going so far as to write not discriminating against people based on sexual orientation into their constitution. Very progressive for a country once caught in the dark ages.

The news is that South Africa has legalised same-sex unions, affording countless gay and lesbian couples the opportunity to make their commitment official. I can see this upsetting quite a few people, and I am not talking just about the stalwart Afrikaners and others who still want to bring Apartheid back.

Looking through the reactions of the people commenting in the BBC forum, there are not a lot of happy campers, and many of them are from African countries other than South Africa. They feel that same-sex unions go against God or that it's "un-African".

Indeed, same-sex unions, whether that be through marriage or any other union, is still controversial in this day and age. People feel that gay rights isn't an important issue to pursue.

The way of the world, though, isn't it?

And there are even groups amongst the gay community who feel that they do not need to define their relationships on heterosexual terms, that marriage is not something that should apply to them. Indeed, I know a few heterosexual couples who feel the same.

So: Is marriage outmoded? What gets people so riled about gay unions? Whatever happened to tolerance?

Un-African? Is that even a word?

What are the Chances...?

This from 1 November...

AMSTERDAM (Reuters) - A Dutch woman, who had meticulously planned her own funeral after the death of her husband last year, died next to the grave in Amsterdam where she wanted to be buried, a newspaper reported.

The 65-year-old widow probably died of a heart attack while she was visiting the family grave where her name, but no date, was already inscribed, De Telegraaf daily reported Wednesday.
The woman was carrying a bag with her containing her will when she died and had already organized details of her funeral including the music she wanted played, the paper said.

Eivor

This woman has a beautiful and haunting voice. Very otherworldly. Listen to the whole thing. I have never heard anything more amazing.

Review: Sin City

I recently had the good sense to put Sin City onto my DVD viewing list.

All I knew about the film before I saw it was that it was based on a graphic novel, which I had never read, and used some interesting filming techniques. And, of course, it had Jessica Alba in it.

I was pretty much blown away by the film and I am a freshly converted fan.

The film views like a comic book in motion, with several separate stories woven together. As you know, I am no fan of Bruce Willis, but he was OK in this. Elijah Wood was a surprise. He managed to convey a lot in a non speaking role. Kudos.

Recommended viewing purely for the fact that it is a visual masterpiece.

Answers and Foxiness

To answer Karen's question on my new profile pic - I believe it is the painting titled The Girls by Tamara de Lempicka. I like her stuff. I like a lot of turn-of-the-19th-Century stuff. The period from about the 1890s through to 1930s. Perhaps I lived a past life in that time? Who knows.

Cliff emailled me a while back to ask why my Livejournal profile pic is foxy and not the one over here. Sorry - don't have a real answer to that question, Cliff. But if you want some foxiness, there it is. Me, a few sizes smaller and cleverly photographed. Nice.

And Here We Are....

Another short story up on Tastes Like Llama for those interested. It's an old one, posted just for xMichra. I can't put the vampire one up until after the magazine comes out, so this is there to tide you over. Enjoy. (That particular story contriubted to me being kicked out of a writers' group in London about 6 years ago.)

Also, Kate's giving a mini fashion show over on her blog. Her new outfit. If you'd like to check her out in all her cuteness, please visit her blog.

More updates to come as the day progresses. As it's Sunday and I am feeling a little lazy... it may not be too soon.

Another Tragic Tale

Is it just me or are children being targetted more fiercely by murderers?

This article in Sky news reveals how a six year old girl was killed in an honour killing. She was six. The whole thing had nothing to do with her anyway. Senseless. And so very, very sad.

Vampires and Sore Throats

My sister and I love vampire movies. The cheesier, the better.

There was an advertisement on South African TV years and years ago for Strepsils, the sore throat lozenges. The setting was Dracula's cave and a suitably cheesy Dracula stood over a half conscious beauty layed out on a stone slab. So Drac tells us about Strepsils and how it's good for "dee coff, dee hoarse voice... and my own perrrsonal favourite..." here he brushes the woman's neck and she moans softly, "dee sore traawt."

Now, every time I have a sore throat, like today, I think of the Strepsils Vampire and have a little giggle. Cheers me right up. I don't know what should disturb me more: the fact that I remember this advert VERBATIM or that I think of vampires when I have a sore throat.

So, in completely random fashion, my thoughts led me from sore throat to vampires to vampire movies, to my sister and I enjoying vampire movies.

We particularly liked Frank Langella as Dracula, even though Christopher Lee is the undisputed king of Dracula portrayal. I loved Buffy until it got stupid and have watched as many vampire movies as I could. I wonder what that says about me, really? I even enjoy the spoof vampires and cartoon vampires.

I've written a vampire story, which a friend of mine is publishing in his horror magazine. I've written several vampire stories, in fact.

Right. I am rambling so I will stop here. I'm off to find some "sootheeeng Strepsils" for my "sore traawt."

Maybe I Am Turning Into An Old Prude, But...

I came across this news article on Sky. This guy murdered 4 people because he was jilted by the 16 year old. The man is 33. Maybe I am out of line here and maybe I am turning into a prude, but the thought that went through my head after reading this was, What the fuck is a 33 year old man doing with a 16 year old girl?

House of Flying Daggers - Review

I would like to lay the blame of this squarely at the feet of Mr Ben Dreyer, our high school art teacher. I clearly remember him teaching us about composition and the beauty of a picture in its own right. What makes a beautiful work of art.

House of Flying Daggers is a cinematic artwork. I don't mean as in film being a form of art, I mean that if this were a painting or a sculpture it wouldn't look out of place in a museum. I found the film to be filled with sumptuous colours, incredibly beautiful landscapes. Impossibly bright colours. Such beautiful people clad in exquisite fabrics. And do not get me started on the martial arts choreography.

The plot is simple: a soldier is told to follow and befriend a blind girl who is apparently a member of the rebellious House of Flying Daggers, in order to assassinate their leader. The soldier and the girl fall for each other.

It's a boy meets girl film with martial arts in it.

The Chinese name of the film translates to Attack from All Sides, and this is by far more fitting. The film isn't about the House of Flying Daggers - it's about the lovers. They are in many ways, attacked from all sides.

It's worth watching purely for its visual quality. The storyline is predictable and without a doubt been done before. However, it really is worth seeing just for the quality of cinematic photography and the martial arts sequences.

Have a look at the trailer here.

Halloween, Movies and Minor Events

I watched House of Flying Daggers yesterday. I'll put up a review a little later. What I will say is that it is a beautiful movie. And by beautiful, I mean the look and feel of it. More about all that a little later.

I discovered this morning that my boss had screwed up on my salary and had only paid it in on Friday night, which means I am pretty much without my pay cheque until Thursday. He did, however, make a plan for me today so that I won't have to panic about the bills that are coming out of my account on Wednesday. Hoo-fucking-ray.

This minor hiccup has actually been a fantastic karmic learning curve for me. Initially, I was feeling like I should be the one trying to rush around and find the money from SOMEWHERE, when I stopped myself. It wasn't MY fuck up. So why should I try to get an extension on my loan for his mistake? Then it dawned on me how I do this a lot - and not just with money. I inevitably end up apologising to the person who has wronged me!

As a result I think I should connect with my inner bitch just a little. I am a nice person on the whole, but lately I have begun to realise that I let people get away with taking advantage of me. So... I plan to bitch-up.

My grandfather used to have a saying (and perhaps Red could translate this into Italian for me since the old boy was Italian and no doubt uttered it in the language): The more you bend, the more your arse shows.

What a classic saying! Life's too short for bullshit. I am not bending anymore.

Finally, for those of you who are interested, I have put a short article on Halloween over on the Esotericon blog.

Sunrise/Sunset - View the pictures HERE

Sunset/Sunrise - Clock Change Weekend
Saturday Evening - Sunset

A view up the lane, with my little car on the right hand side. Looks all cloudy and miserable - not a very good picture, I have to say.

Synchronised Photography

Here's an interesting idea, ladies and gents: We all get up nice and early on Sunday when the clocks go to Daylight Savings wotsit and we take a photograph at Sunrise. Then post the picture in our blogs. More information from Shep at Cliff-A-Go-Go.

Now, I know that most of my readers are my friends in South Africa, but how about you join in? I know in SA we have none of this daylight savings time malarkey, but for the hell of it, let's see your sunrise too!!

Follow the instructions on Cliff-A-Go-Go and don't forget to leave me a comment so I know you've done that.

Now, if only I can work out how to use that friggin camera. Kate! HELP!

New Couches and Six Word Stories

First, the six word stories...

Go over to Tastes Like Llama and have a read. And try one yourself.

OH NO! Not the Comfy Chair!!

After waiting over a month for our new couches to arrive, I finally took delivery of them yesterday. They look lovely and they are very comfy too. Sitting in them feels like sitting in a nice warm hug.

Maybe I've just been without a couch too long. The old, tired couches and chairs we had before left our little home at the end of August already. We were left using Kate's old divan bed as a seat until the new couches arrived yesterday. That divan bed was Kate's since she was 11 and once languished upstairs in our cottage as the spare bed. I am surprised she was happy to let it go. Kate is, after all, a bit of a hoarder. *

So, couches are in place and have been claimed by the true rulers of the house: the cats. They have already tested out the comfiness of the seats, and it appears that the couches are a hit with Luce, Tink and Zak aka The Trio of Tabbies.

They think that the couches have been installed as a kind of cat exercise thingy. The plastic, cardboard and bubble wrap that the couches came in were piled in the centre of lounge in a heap. The Trio of Tabbies devised a game in which they leaped from couch to couch and then into the pile of cardboard and bubble wrap. This is most entertaining to watch.

Kate has instructed me to ensure that no cat claws the couches.

......

.....

(Hahaha)

The lounge is now a cat playground. The only one of the lot not interested (for now) is Mischa, who has decided she prefers the comfort of the futon in the spare room. And now I get to spread myself out on comfy couches when I watch the telly. When the cats let me.

* Kate still has clothing in her wardrobe from her teens. One of these items is a leather jacket she's had since she was 11 - and it still fits her. In fact, most of her clothing comes from the children's section, most notably boys sizes aged 9-10 for tops and boys sized aged 12-13 for trousers and shorts. And sometimes, these items of clothing still afford her a lot of wiggle room. And we like it when Kate wiggles.

We Worry About Money Now, But It's Sex We're Going to Miss The Most...

I had meant to blog about this the other day.

Apparently, what old aged pensioners seem to regret the most is that they didn't have enough sex when they were younger.

You laugh? Ok - have a look at the article on Sky News.

I think it's amusing that 44% of the young people they interviewed for this survey regretted that they weren't famous. It's one regret I thankfully won't have! I don't want to be famous. Can you imagine how much stress that has to be? Cameras in your face all the time, the pressure to constantly look good, your entire personal life splashed across tabloid pages... I guess you can argue that hot babes, more money than you know what to do with and exotic holidays make that all worth it. Meh. I'd rather have more sex.

It also amuses me that the older generation feel they have missed out on having loads of sex. I wonder if it's because they are living in a more permissive society in which much of what young people are indulging in today was frowned upon when they were young? Or is it simply a case of the mechanics of sex failing to work as well as it used to and a wistful yearning for past lovers?

Who knows?

Regrets? I have a few. But then again...

Do I regret not having had enough sex? Not yet.

So - 70% of old folk reckon they didn't get enough action when they were younger. I wonder what we will say we regret when we are old and some sociologist decides to ask us about our regrets?

M. Night Shyamalan Movies

Last night I watched Signs. Mel Gibson. Joaquin Phoenix. I heard it had done well at the box office and I had read a few good reviews. So, I put Signs on my DVD list.

I didn't like it.

It tells the story of an ex-reverend who's faith in God has been eradicated by the death of his wife. And then aliens arrive in his cornfield.

No suspension of disbelief for Auntie Tanya over here. The finest acting, I must say, came from the children. A little from Joaquin Phoenix. Mel Gibson? I am tired of Mel Gibson. Mel Gibson has stopped being an actor for me (was he ever an actor?) and has just seems to play roles like This Is What Mel Gibson Would Have Been Like Had He Been A Reverend. OR This Is What Mel Gibson Would Have Been Like Had He Been A Cop. Sorry, Mel fans, but I am not entirely convinced that the man can play anything other than a different version of himself.

Actually, while I really enjoyed The Sixth Sense, also directed by Shyamalan, I didn't really immerse myself in the others I saw either. Unbreakable I saw mainly because I like Samuel L Jackson. But Bruce Willis is another actor who is playing himself. I've also seen The Village, which I also enjoyed, but which I ruined for myself by guessing the outcome of the story within the first 40 minutes of the film. So I didn't really immerse myself because I knew what was going to happen. And I was right. Disbelief semi-suspended.

I am giving the rest of Shyamalan's films a miss for now. I do think he has some good stories to tell and for me, The Sixth Sense and The Village were well told. I am, however, disappointed, especially after Signs.

I still can't figure out what the hell point there was to that movie. At all. I looked it up on the Net and there's loads of yada-yada about symbolism and shit. I didn't get it. Sorry. Throughout the film, little hints and clues are dropped all over the place. I picked those up, waited for some amazing revelation and got nothing.

Would I recommend this film? Not unless it's on really late on telly and you are bored and don't have to rent it.

Maybe I just missed the point. Enlighten me if you feel there is a point. But for me, it was just a waste of my time. I kept waiting for the big pay off. There was none. Maybe it's just too subtle for my little brain.

In any case, no more Shyamalan for me for a while. I've had my fill.

Pish!

I am a blog whore.

I have tried all bloody day to get onto this damn blogspot (my favourite blogging place) and have had to resort to putting this post on my Myspace. *sob* OH THE HORROR! The horror! I feel so dirty....

The blog is below:


I just felt like sharing a story from my life long long ago as a married lady. It popped into my head just before I fell asleep last night and I do believe the last thought before sleep rushed in was, "What a weird thing to think about now!"


A Tale from My Marriage

(Not that this story has anything to do with being married, but...)

Ex-Man and I were in the market for some furniture and being newly weds, we didn't really have that much cash to flash around. My ex-and-late-father-in-law suggested that we look for stuff at auctions. He explained that sometimes people have auctioneers come to their own homes and sell all their stuff that way.

What a novel idea!

So off we pootled to Bryanston, Johannesburg, to view the spoils of someone else's life. The house itself was opulent with lush gardens. The interior was tastefully decorated, and we really liked several of the items that were going up for auction.

Me, being me, and not one to keep my mouth shut, wanted to find out why all this stuff was up for auction. Rather than talk to the host of the auction himself, I sought out 'the help', which I discovered consisted of two gardeners and a maid.

They stood to one side of the house, looking sullen, being quiet and sad eyed. Almost invisible.
I asked them why the stuff was up for auction.

The gardener volunteered the chilling reply: "Madam shot herself."

Oh. I see. Suicide furniture.

I told Ex-Man and we made a hasty exit.

I have no idea why I thought of that last night. Perhaps because I was writing a short story in my head. Perhaps because I watched a documentary on men who are beaten up by their wives and thought you never know what goes on in another person's life. But there it is.

Reality and Fantasy

I won't be seeing Kate until the middle of November. She's working quite a few extra shifts at the airport. Oh... lonesome me. So, to combat the possible cabin fever and loneliness I have planned the following:

1. Erika is coming over to watch Corpse Bride on Hallowe'en

2. I'd like to go and see Little Miss Sunshine at the arts centre

3. I have decided to buy a new sketch book and go to one or two life drawing classes on a Thursday evening in Stamford

Plus, there will be several sundry Buddhist activities and Bethan has said she'd like to chant with me one evening at some point, so I should be able to stave off the claws of loneliness.

Kate's schedule is fairly regular - she comes home for four days and goes to London for four days. I think the cats have tuned into this Kate rhythm. Tinkie and Zak were sat at the window at roughly the time Kate comes home in the evening when she's completed her shift. They sat there until I went to bed and announced it was time for "sleepies". Maybe I am giving the cats more credit than they're due. Maybe they were watching the ivy outside the window swinging in the wind.

Yesterday I completed Jesus Cooks with Gordon Ramsay and uploaded it. Waiting for my creative energy to return - seems to have dipped.

Onto the fantasy. This is where I would like to be right now. In the Maldives. Nice and warm. Secluded. Gorgeous beaches. And every day a lovely lady will arrive to give me a full body massage and later one there would be yoga on the deck overlooking the ocean.

Yeah. Ok. A girl's got to have some kind of dream.

In the News Today:

Woman is robbed of briefcases filled with sex toys! (From the Mail and Guardian)

Here it is:

Jerusalem, Israel
Israeli police said on Wednesday they were on the lookout for 40 vibrators and a $200 dildo after thieves plundered the automobile of a noted sexologist in Tel Aviv.

"Thieves broke into her car and apparently stole from her a caseload of vibrators," police spokesperson Micky Rosenfeld said. "It's difficult to say the exact value of the items stolen, but obviously we're searching for these items just as with any other incident of theft.

"The thieves were likely surprised by the contents, Rosenfeld said.

The two metal cases stolen from Shelly Pasternak's car on Friday resembled those used for expensive audio-visual equipment, but instead contained massage oils, dildos, whips, Chinese balls and handcuffs, as well as vibrators.

In all, the thieves made off with about $2 000 worth of sex toys, Pasternak said, adding that the most valuable item was an elaborate vibrating dildo that sells for $200.

"It's a very unique one because it gives very high pleasure to women," she said.However, Pasternak said she was most concerned about a book of receipts inside the case that contained the names of customers who purchased sex toys, many of whom prefer to remain anonymous.

Pasternak (32) is a sexologist who hosts a sex programme on Israeli television, holds workshops and lectures at bachelor and bachelorette parties

Something Lighter

I've been a depressing old cow the last few days, haven't I?

Well, here's a lighter story for you. I almost spat coffee out my nose this morning. I turned on the morning news (which I don't often do) and a very cheerful, very blonde presenter reminded all of us viewers out there that there are just 8 weeks' shopping left till Christmas!

Ho ho fucking ho.

The season is upon us.

Existential Bum Fluff

So, not having much spare cash to my name and not having any extra source of income, I have done something which could be construed as silly. I am going to go back to South Africa for a visit in Feb/March 2007. I did consider January initially, but the prices are extortionate.

Right now, I am taking a "leap-and-the-net-will-appear" kind of attitude. Kate's agreed to help me out where she can and I get to eat beans on toast for the next few months while I scrape every spare penny I can find into this Visit South Africa Fund.

I am sure I have mentioned this, but my dad is dying. This has prompted an inordinate amount of panic in me about a great deal of things. And me, being me, I've let them all stew over the last... oooh.... seven months. Since my last visit to South Africa, in fact.

And this panic about not seeing my dad again and the finality of his disease has conjured up all kinds of devils in my own life. It's forced me to question what my purpose in life is. It's opened up the nasty can of worms labelled "What Are You Doing With Your Life, Tanya?", which had been quietly hissing and seething in the back cupboard since 1991. It's made me pick up each piece of my life and scrutinise it and question it.

I am a big believer in every day having value, but living that philosophy to its full has lately become a really difficult thing to do. I was inspired by recent Buddhist meetings to move my life forward and to embrace what each day brings me with a sense of joy.

But sometimes, on days like this, when the hope is just an echo in my heart, I wonder if all of this that I believe in is just bum fluff.

Jesus displays his hairstyles through the ages.

Cosmic Transformation - A Day for Amplified Positive Energy

Apparently today we are going to be caught in a Cosmic Event on a grand scale. For 17 hours today, all our thoughts are amplified a million times. I mean thoughts that manifest into the material.

So think wonderful thought as this will set you up for the time to come and apparently the effects are only going to be felt in Jan/Feb 2007.

It's to do with sacred geometry and other stuff I don't quite have my head wrapped around, but why not drop in on the Esotericon where I have posted the original bit of information I received?

Make your thoughts good, strong and positive ones!

Also, this from The Astrology Page. Apparently there are big planetary movements as well.

Who knows if this is a great big email send around thingy? Well... it can't hurt to live your day with positive thoughts at any one time, now can it?

Weekend Learning Curve

This weekend I have learned that:

1. Stressing about an exam isn't going to make it any easier to do

2. Talk to your partner first before you decide to jump on a plane to go and live in South Africa permanently.

3. I am having a quarter-life/mid-life/something-life crisis

4. I can go from 3 Pimms with lemonade and one sherry straight to hungover without passing through drunk.

You don't really need to read further than that list, but if you want, I can elaborate. But later. I need coffee.

Friday the 13th

Actually, I am not superstitious about Friday the 13th. Or black cats crossing my path. My path is frequently crossed by a black cat: Noodle. I don't walk under ladders purely because I don't want anything to fall on top of me. The number 13 means nothing to me. It's a number.

However, that doesn't mean that today has no importance in my life. It does. It's my mother's birthday. Or rather, it would have been her birthday had she still been alive. She would have been 64 this year.

I had missed out on four of her birthdays before she died due to living out here. I used to make a big thing of it: a cake from the home industry shop (made by number 32 who was very good at marble cake and sponge), some flowers and a gift with a card. A few times I treated her to lunch or to tea in a very swish restaurant that she always wanted to go to, but was afraid she couldn't afford.

This grand display sounds lovely, doesn't it? What mum wouldn't love that on her birthday?

Well, my mum was a bit weird about her birthday. She would say she didn't want gifts or accolades. She would say that it was a waste of money. She would actually tell us not to buy her anything at all, but to use the money for something more important instead.

I only took this seriously ONCE in my life. All hell broke loose and she accused me of not appreciating her and not loving her. So, every year after that, she got the grand display, and I got to hear, "But you shouldn't have spent so much money. I didn't want anything. " I wasn't going to take my chances and only turn up with nothing again.

For all her weirdness and quirks, I miss my mom today. I wish I could do the grand display for her just one more time. The cake, the flowers, the gift and the tea at Mantovani's.

I miss you, mommy.