The Spring Clean

Now growing up and moving on comes with it’s own baggage. The more you stay in a place the more garbage you collect. I use garbage loosely. It could be anything really, stuff you have that you don’t need and some things that you use that you don’t need.

I’m not a hoarder. Letting go of things isn’t a drag for me. Except things of a high sentimental value which are few and far in between. I needed space in my house, so I chucked out CDs, gave away books to the library and clothes to someone who’d know what to do with them. Easy.

But seriously, there are things I hold on to that I shouldn’t. They are not material but more emotional and mental. I hold on to emotional boundaries that maybe sometimes do more harm to me than good.

I don’t forget a lot of things. Especially not conversations. Mental garbage collection. As a sufferer of erratic sleeping patterns this is not good, nor is it healthy. There are some nights when I’ll wake up and think about something so and so said, then remember something else that person said a week before, a year before, a decade before. This can go on for minutes or hours. It might make sense of something or nothing.

I hold grudges. I’ve learnt to hide this weakness. But I do. I don’t confront people who’ve lied to me. I don’t have the time or the emotional capacity to deal with the added drama of confrontations. Mental Garbage. But I will remember that you lied about A, then two days later you lied about B, then I’ll remember when you talk to me like you’ve never lied to me that I can’t rely on anything you tell me because I can remember every lie you’ve ever told me and have believed that I believed you. And you can get me angry, and I’ll most probably lose my temper and you’ll pretend it didn’t happen and I’ll pretend it didn’t happen but I’ll remember until my memory starts dimming.

And yes, I pretend quite a bit. Mental garbage. And the thing is, people don’t know when I’m doing it. The moment when my smile isn’t quite genuine. Or when I simply don’t care what they are talking about.

I can deal with a lot of things. Like paying bills on time. Getting my hair done. Returning phone calls and being there for family and friends when they really need me. But one thing I’m really bad at is dealing with all the things that go on in my head. I suppose it’s time for a clean up. And this is easier said than done and who the hell needs the drama of listing all the things that are slowing you down and listing every little thing that crosses your mind when so and so phones you to ask you for a favour.

And the “how dared she phone when she knows that she…” thought.

I always say that forgiveness if a gift you give yourself. I have mentally forgiven but I’m not a forgetful person. So as I type this, I’m thinking. Maybe some mental spring clean is in order, then I think I have hardly had coffee today. After my coffee break I have to prepare for a review session then I have a report to type then…

A Review: The Thousand Autumns Of Jacob De Zoet by David Mitchell

I am weary of books written by much revered so-called literary writers. I am not much of a fan of these so-called literary books. I find them pretentious and overbearing and for a person who reads for entertainment value, this aspect in these books often falls by the wayside.

But I must admit being impressed by David Mitchell’s tale. He tells this story of a young Dutchman, Jacob De Zoet, a lowly clerk who leaves his home of Zeeland in 1799 for a Japanese trading post in search for wealth to prove his hopefully future father-in-law that he has the mettle to provide for his love Anna whom he wishes to marry.

This trading post of Dejima is racked with corruption which Jacob is enlisted to investigate and report to the zealous Chief resident who later becomes just as corrupt as the people he is investigating. Jacob is pushed on his quest for wealth all the while remember the solitary kiss treasured upon him by the beautiful and pious Anna…

That is until he meets Orito, who is a mid-wife and the daughter of a high ranking samurai. He harbours deep affection for Orito which is forbidden in Japan at that time. But even if he could have her, certain events transpire that ensure that he will never. You have to read the book.

This is a beautifully and skilfully told love story and maybe a bit, as a romantic sceptic, a story of life. If you’ve ever read a love story by a man you know how this story will end.

It is a great read for those weeks where you want to put aside your chic-lit and read something heavier but not leaden with intellectual analysis and point by point descriptions that sometimes do bog down a book.

It has humour at some places, it is sad at others. I love good love stories and this, even though it doesn’t end the way I wished it would, is an exceptionally told tale of a loosish love triangle.

My Sweet Romance

I am single and I like doing things to make myself, as the most important person in my life, feel valued. This are a few things I do to romance myself and to remind myself that there is no one else in the world I would rather be with:

• Drinking tea out of the bowl while the sun rises, and listening to the stillness of the morning on my balcony.

• Reading out loud to no one but me. It makes the book and the words come alive and I can imagine the character saying them and the texture, tone and the feel of the words.

• ·    Long walks around my neighbourhood. Letting my thoughts run through my mind. Letting myself daydream and having that convo with me that I’ve been putting off for weeks. Realising how much I take my car for granted.

• · Stretching on my living room floor or in front of the mirror.

We often wait for someone to take our breath away. To do something for us that will make us sigh, and often this is something we are too afraid to do on our own.

I think another freedom that democracy has brought me is the right to have a decent job and to do whatever I need to do without leaning on a man or asking permission from anyone to spend my money.

And hell, I have a right to fall in love with me every single second of every single day. I have the right to buy myself flowers and chocolates and to take myself out to  nice restaurants, the movies, ice skating just because I love me too much to wait for someone to offer. 

And You Thought You Hated Mondays...

4rm…is not a word. Four and rm reads fourm and not from. And please don’t send me a text that looks like this: I dOnT uNdEStAnd ThiS & It GiVeS mE a HoRrId HeAdAKe. pEoPlE Is AlReAdy A pLuRal 4 PeRson So WhY uSe PeOpLes?

You might like the sound of your own voice and seriously, I am happy for you. But I don’t want to sit here listening to you object to every suggestion made for the hell of it! Hell, if you know someone has just said what you’ve just said, why repeat it?

If all my answers are yes/no or no answer at all. I obviously don’t want to have this convo, so why you still talking?

In case you wondering, I do have the proverbial stick firmly lodged up my ass. It isn’t bothering me, so why are you worried?

And if I wanted to be a good person I would be wearing recycled cotton t-shirts printed with vegetable paint, I would recycle my junk, I would donate money to save the universe causes… And yes, WordWeb, some people omit more carbon emissions than others…I can’t ride a bicycle. I’ve never ridden a bicycle nor have I ever wanted to learn! Eat that!

And hell, just because I occasionally chat to you it doesn’t mean that you know me, so don’t tell me what I should or shouldn’t do to my hair-that’s why I pay my hairdresser for!

Oh while I’m on a roll, I can’t stand rudeness. You don’t have to be all sunshine, but saying hello to the chick on the other side of the till won’t kill you!

We all have problems. Deal with yours and don’t take out your stress on me! Hell, I don’t need to know how broke you are and how much school fees cost…

I’ll skip the paragraph with all my issues of people and their offspring…but if I’m on a plane and your six year old brat won’t stop crying…hell, I think you are a bad mother and yes, I am judging you!

And you might get away with changing your mind every ten seconds…but if I say no. I mean no. Don’t think you’ll call me on Thursday and I would have changed my mind.

And while I’m whinging… if you are forty and you still suffer from peer pressure…GROW UP!