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.)