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Published May 18th, 2011
My plans was the get the vote done and then blog tonight after all was done and dusted and I could share my experience, but the truth is … I need to sober up before voting.
It’s not my fault. We were invited to some very dear friends for lunch and they had a treat on the menu … duck and cherry pie (without the pie). In the time that I was being born and learning to grasp the concepts of crawling and walking, there was a famous restaurant in downtown Johannesburg (in about 1975) called Gatrile sons and Co. Of course I had never heard of it, but I know my dad would have. Lunch was the original recipe and wine was flowing with a very heavy handed host and me happily drinking away seeing as though Greggie would be driving home.
Not once, while sipping on wine and savouring a recipe that my father would have known very well, did I think that I would have to drive to a poling station a few hours later.
So, we were cooked this treated by one of the original owners of this legendary restaurant. And if you don’t believe me, here’s an old article I found on the net: Gartile Cigar Page.
No one in my family eats duck but me. Okay, that’s only because dad isn’t around. I’ve had a lot of that with the build up to the elections … thinking about my dad not being around.
I haven’t cried about him in ages and even let #D500 pass without getting overly emotional that he was not around to see the birth of or success of me as a writer and blogger.
I don’t know why I associated voting with my father with such extreme emotion, but for some reason I stood in the shower and sobbed this morning. I never actually ever voted with him because he went just before poles closed and I always dragged my butt there early in the morning. We used to stand and queue for hours and he would tell us how he breezed in and out.
My dad taught us the power of voting and had something very patriotic about the very nature of our being. I remember my very first voting experience only because he drummed into us how important it was to keep our votes to ourselves because of the right we had to vote for our own reason.
I don’t remember anything about the elections that Mandela won beside landing in Johannesburg after a trip to London with my oldest sister. We had traveled London to find a piece for my father’s vintage E-Type Jaguar and she had forgotten it in the Heathrow airport. She was so upset and angry with herself that the air hostess separated us for the duration of the flight. All I remember is my father laughing … and somewhere along the line I voted.
We shared the love for duck, the belief that your mark could tip the scales and the belief that days like today won’t be remembered for the vote, but for something significant that happened. I will remember this day because it’s the first time I’m voting alone with my mother … at night! I bet I’m going to get there and it’s going to be a quite as he said it always was … because my dad had a way of always being right, except when it counted most 
With courage, consciousness & a sense of humour
Published April 19th, 2011
There is something that I am trying to figure out about my way of thinking that might be a little too unconscious at the moment. Yes, I do things like this and don’t think I can ever be faulted for thinking too much … except about the distracting things like money, which road to choose and boys. The other thinking is what creates on of Lifeology‘s greatest lessons in the mix of courage, consciousness and a sense of humour … that thing called consciousness. The silent observer of the self.
I don’t know where I would be without it because the past couple of days have been a fine line between the cup half full and the cup half empty. The only deciding factor is the consciousness to choose and I chose for it to be full. Since Sunday I have been chatting to a not-so-stranger who responded to a tweet where I was saying how very sad the word ‘settle’ is. He double checked that I meant ‘settle for’ and I agreed. Long story short … he thinks I have a refreshing attitude towards life. On some days I need those reassurances from a not-so-stranger and on other days I figure that out all by myself.
Yesterday was genuine swing between highs and lows that had that half cup swishing around like it was on the rough open seas. Extraordinary business opportunities battered around by extreme financial pressure. Unexplainable moments of creative genius smacked around by the realities of time frames.
It was the first night of the Jewish festival of passover … and this pagan girl loves the traditions but battles through the service that keeps repeating how people were slain by the mighty God. I never question what anyone believes but I just choose to believe different and expect that no one questions what I believe either.
My poor mom is horribly sick with flu, yet at the same time we were all waiting in anticipation for her cooking.
My family is magical at times like this, yet there is always the hovering of a little sibling rivalry.
The room is full with love and laughter yet it feels completely empty without the bellowing voice of my father.
And then little boys arrive with face painting pens and I remember why we are on this rocky ocean of life in the first place. A sedar table turned into human canvasses where everyone turned into giggling children as we were scribbled on with a unique picture from each precious little twin. Not bad drawing for a 5 year old … or is that just a super proud aunty?
I could say my day was crappy, but I could also say it was one of the most inspiring days I have had in years. I could look at the mess that a little boy created all over my skin or I could say that I was painted with a masterpiece.
I don’t believe that life ever goes without trials and tribulations. I don’t believe that we will ever have the power to protect ourselves from hurt or pain. I don’t believe that we will ever hit a plateau of happiness.
But I do believe that we will always have the power to colour it beautiful …
With courage, consciousness & a sense of humour
Published April 18th, 2011
Today is a busy one so I seriously have to blog and be done by the time this first cup of tea is still hot. That’s one hell of a challenge … I usually only get my blogging cap on after about cup number 3.
I get the feeling this week is going to be an interesting one and I think that a lot of it has to do with the turn around from my attitude this weekend to the way I woke up feeling this morning.
The anticipation is always worse than the actual moment and waking up wasn’t nearly as daunting as I thought it would be. It seems that this week I have to do some things differently. I can’t pinpoint all of them and I am not ready to face some of them, but something is changing as fast as the weather. According to the Pagan energies that work with the changing of the seasons, we are now in a time of harvesting everything we need for a time that we go within ourselves and discover more of who we are to begin blossoming again in the summer. Whether we are aware of it or not, these times come and go in our lives.
I am aware of these times and like to best equip myself through the winter months of self reflection with things like Tigger slippers, warm jimmy jams, roasted tomato soup and chilli hot chocolate. It doesn’t mean that this internal time has to be spent alone and I love nothing more than surprising friends with warm meals. I’m one of those people who loves cooking while everyone is gathered around. I never have a recipe in sight and am only now learning to allow others to give their taste input. Somewhere along the line I have chilled out in the kitchen … and trust me, it’s a major chill out. I used to only allow people to watch but would half throw them out if they interfered. Wait, I do recall a time when Greggie had to finish making his own breakfast because he told me when to stop grating the cheese. LOL … I love reflecting back on how far this personality has come.
That was the joy of yesterday and the thing that pulled me through a day of frustration. It seemed that every corner I turned people were making their own choices (which they are entitled to) and then not appreciating the choice I made because of the choice they made. It truly is that simple … you are free to choose to do anything, but then allow me to make a choice from the choice you made and don’t expect me to do anything but what I want to do.
The more frustrated the greater my friends are treated. Hence the three course meal of soup, pasta and my secret chilli hot chocolate. Okay, so it’s not so secret but holy moly is it delicious.
I know it all sounds a bit vague, but I really am figuring things out. It seems as though Cape Town won’t be happening. sponsors are on my page of refining, friends choices are being assessed and so are men’s.
On the other hand … there is a very exciting meeting today. I had an unexpected exciting call last night and a very unexpected and potentially exciting email this morning.
Oh, and it’s the Jewish festival of Passover tonight. I love the family time and Hustler Girl is coming to dinner with her Ponkie. I don’t do any of the Matzos eating but I do love these moment where tradition brings everyone together. That’s kind of like the next Pagan festival I have planned
Okay … tea is too cold to drink so it’s time to start the day!
With courage, consciousness & a sense of humour
Published April 11th, 2011
Most of my fret about boxes has been my concern that dragons and fairies couldn’t breathe with the amount of bubble wrap they were smothered in. The other concern is that I couldn’t breathe until I knew the made a safe trip to the other side (no, not other world, just to the new house) and that they were safely removed from the bubble wrap. That’s not as simple as it sounds seeing as though the bubble wrap was taped about 5 times around and needed to be surgically removed.
I chose to ignore the fact that I saw the movers drop a box as they were piling them 5 high and convinced myself that it wasn’t one with my precious dragons, fairies or priceless alter goblets and trinkets. So yesterday had an edge of stress.
It’s funny how that the time when my brother kicked into the most compassionate of modes.
Before we even got to dragons, he was making cunning plans and cutting boxes into pieces to be able to stagger my books so that I could put more out. You are looking at about 30% of the books. What to do with the rest will slowly be tackled during the week, but my most treasured ones are out. I think one day I have to post some of my most prized ones … like an original AA Milne story of Pooh Corner, the entire set of Jane Austin, In cold blood, at least 5 Charles Dickens and now I’m starting to collect Nancy Drew and the Hardy Boys. I have two original Harry Potters and now I think I need to scout around for the set as that will be valuable one day. I always joke with my family that someone is going to curse me when I’m gone … it’s a hell of a lot of books to pack up! At this moment I am already trying to encourage the book passion with my nephews so that someone will keep them and not give them to an old second hand store in years to come. Well, I’m hoping that when it’s time to leave this happy earth, my 1900 Jane Eyre will be worth something more than being tossed back into an old book store.
Anyway … I always get a little carried away by these books and the point is that it took an entire day and the gentle patience (yes, it’s that rare) of my brother to discover that everything arrived at their new home safe and sound.
I’m a little surprised everything stayed in one piece with a set of twins, aged 5 and a bit, dashing around the house like cowboys. How to teach them that aunty Jo’s room is off limits is going to be an interesting one. I also made a decision not to hide my ‘other’ books in a cupboard and that it’s time for everyone around me to adjust to what I do. Engineers have engineering books around and psychologists have their textbooks too, so why must I pack my tantra and sex books away? So they are neatly on the bottom shelf next to the wiccan encyclopedia of all things … I found that nice and appropriate.
My room is an interesting world to step into now that I think about it. Dragons, fairies, wands, crystals, old books and then a burst of girlie perfumes, pretty necklaces, sparkling rings and bracelets. Other people get hand creams and cup of soup as sample sachets … well you can just imagine what I get in my industry. So there are boxes of lubes and condoms that have all been neatly sorted (expiry date checked and the ego put to rest that I am not as on the shelf as I thought right now). The giggle is that they are in an old wooden box that I’m sure was intended for something more … um … less surprising if opened. Don’t panic, children won’t be walking down the passage going “aunty Jo, what’s this?’ with a ‘zzzzzzzz’ sound trailing with them. Those are all stashed away in not to be found places, but if I had to hide everything I would be living in a secret chamber and only come out for meals.
It’s refreshing to look back at who I was when I moved back to my mom’s house nearly two ago and how I hid everything away. How proud I have become of my beliefs, belongings, career path and choices. It’s amazing to breath and see the great gifts of ‘project me’ that have paved the way to me being … me!
With courage, consciousness & a sense of humour
Published April 3rd, 2011
The boxes are slowly getting less by the day, but one big stack still remains. All my books! I’m sure I’ve mentioned before that I have a passion for old books. Not just any books. The classics in hard cover only. My oldest is an 1892 picture book for boys about wildlife and I am the proud owner of a 1900 copy of Jane Eyre. Don’t get me started on my books because the list of what I have and what I dream of having is a blog worth thousands of words.
The bottom line is that I didn’t have space for them in my old house and now this house is smaller. On my vision board is a picture of a library with books from floor to ceiling and that step ladder that rolls around the room to reach the highest and furthest corners. That’s for my beautiful house by the sea one day, but what about now?
Seriously, there are about 20 boxes of books! I’ve tried to convince my mom to put them in odd places, like the kitchen but she didn’t fall for it. I pictured myself building glass cabinets in the bathroom just so I could have more shelf space. I was thinking of getting old crates and packing books in them and then turning them into beside tables (I still like that idea actually). The only thing I know is that I can’t shove them in the garage for years on end.
I’ve always been lucky with my folks and their acceptance of every passion I have had, no matter how controversial or space consuming. My mom sees how much I love these books and she’s just as adamant not to see them go into storage. And I kid you not … this has been on my mind a lot … where are my precious books going to go?
Talking about my folks, today would have been their 45th wedding anniversary and although I am less attached to dates for my own personal reasons, I can see the pull at my mom’s heart today. We are having such a special time living together and have a beautiful friendship, but it’s days like today where I’m just so proud of me for being the daughter I turned out to be. We really are each other’s support and best friend and I always used to think it was unhealthy to have a bond with a mother like I do. I also took ages to deal with the family dynamic of a bond that I know I have personally worked very hard at.
I had the same undeniable bond with my dad too. I remember arriving at the house with the oddest of things … either an old book or something witchy for my alter and he was attentive to it all. He would pat me on the back when a boy broke my heart and I could see him wondering why the hell I was telling him, but I just kept telling him everything. His jaw would clench as I shared my next risky business idea with him, but he would support me anyway.
One day I will write their story. I might be very old by that time, but it’s a love story worth telling. I don’t need it to become the next Gone with the wind (which I still haven’t found in hard cover, I might add) but it will be book that will sit on someone’s shelf, with a story that reminds us that unconditional love, love at first sight and eternal love are all possible … all in one couple and all in one lifetime!
The end!
With courage, consciousness & a sense of humour
Published March 29th, 2011It’s finally here! Today my little sis and her hubby, and my brother all move to their own little houses. Mom and I have one more sleep and tomorrow is the big move day.
I don’t think I have to describe what moving is like, but we have the added emotions of having to leave behind the house my dad built and separate from each other.
This must be one of the biggest ‘project me’ moments of my life! I’m trying to carry on with business because that’s at a scary stage too. I’m trying to maintain a level or calm so my body doesn’t pack up on me … and my back has been a little extra sore over the past few day and I’m trying to make sure that I am there for my mom as much as I can be in my own little whirlpool of emotion. That’s a lot for a girl, but as I have discovered, I have big girl panties (a friend reminded me of that) and I shall be wearing them over the next few days.
I’m sure my blogs have sounded scatty and maybe a little disconnected, but hey … it is a real time, real life blog and that’s exactly how I’m feeling!
Tonight mom and I sleep in the house alone … and I feel a tear well up as I speak
A very special good luck to my brother, little sis and her hubby for this extremely new experience in your lives and a very happy birthday to my special brother-in-law! What a great day to begin the first chapter in a whole new journey of life!
As for you, mommy, dad must be so proud of your bravery and so pissed at all the junk you threw out. I couldn’t have made a better decision but to share a home with you for the next chapter in our lives too. Although we are on our own paths, they will always walk side by side and I am honoured to call you ‘mom’!
With courage, consciousness & a sense of humour
Published March 26th, 2011
Like the usual chaos of life isn’t enough, today I am sitting here a little (crap … a lot frazzled) and feeling very much like it’s deer in the headlights moments on after the other. Before I even begin the tales of woe, I have to say that I’ve just had ice cream, a very positive conversation with Greggie and good laugh about life. Now that we can put the positivity out the way, I have to say: “Good gracious, it’s been a crappy past 24 hours.
Johannesburg is famous for our storms filled with huge crashes of thunder and lighting that cracks for miles across the sky. Most of the time we carry on regardless and a lot of us aren’t even prepared with umbrella.
I don’t know at which point I realised that this was no usual Jozi storm. It might have been when I started unplugging all electrical equipment or when I contemplated sitting under the office table. When I was too scared to pee in case the toilet got struck and ended up lying on the bed with kitty taking care of me, I knew this storm meant business. Before all the chaos had even struck I was contemplating moving dinner with very dear friends.
Truth is, because of all of the building around us, the drains are blocked and I kinda couldn’t walk downstairs and out of my front door without getting drenched.
You know that phone call that you dread? I think I said the exact same thing when my nephew got knocked over. Well here we go again. This time it was my petrified little sis who had driven home in the storm and hit a dip in the road that had turned into a river. It’s one of those things that you just don’t see until you are in it and by the time my mother held out the phone to me and asked for help, my sister was trapped in the middle of a river consuming her car with water.
Everything is about me … right? So then I have to pride myself for keeping her as calm as possible and guiding her out of the situation … her, not her car.
Just above her was Thava, my very special Indian restaurant who is usually a sponsor that I take my friends to to fill a belly. Yesterday the entire staff of the restaurant turned into my rescue team and I don’t quite know how to thanks them.
They were out there in the rain, comforting her and taking her to the safety of the restaurant. My brother tells me that they had her wrapped in sheets (it must have been table clothes) while they dried her jacket by the open fire in the kitchen.
The team at Thava have never managed to do enough for me and I thought it was incredible when they sent me food when I couldn’t walk thanks to my herniated disk, but this moment captured my heart.
My sister arrived home semi dry, warmed up from extra strong coffee and with bags of food to feed the family.
I never ended up going to dinner but that was thanks to a second little crisis. By the time I called Greggie he was just as distressed. He was describing the mayhem on the roads and in his own little world. Thanks to flooding roads throughout Jozi, Greggie’s electricals in the car had gotten wet and nothing was functioning with the car misting up and the surrounding roads blocking him from making his way home, with warning messages with the car telling him to switch off the engine.
Everyone focuses on the victim in a point of crisis, but you have no idea what it’s like being helpless when people you love are amidst danger and chaos. You can’t call every 2 minutes to check they are safe and a lot of it goes down to pure faith and a damn huge bout of bravery.
Of course,while waiting for word that both Greggie and little sis were safe, the electricity went out. Well that ended up sucking and while mom scrounged for candles I scrounged for chocolate … both were found.
I don’t like to admit that I’m stuck in the midst of the collective way of thinking or doing things but I can’t shy away from the cliche saying: when it rains, it pours.
Moving is hell as it is. My family are going in three different directions with this move. Money is freaking tight in the business and super tight personally … and then it genuinely begins to pour!
To the staff and friends at Thava, as you stated yesterday … in times of need, we are all family. On behalf of my mother, myself and my family, I extended an abundant thank you for going to the rescue of my sister in more ways than one. Bless each of you for your love and care.
Here is a personal note from my little sis:
I would like to extend my sincere thanks to Thava Norwood for being there for me in comfort when my car was almost washed away during the flash floods. Thank you for saving my car and putting it in the safety of your premises and making sure that, after the shock of the incident, you took care of me and gave me a warm meal and something hot to drink. You were all a great help and comfort to me. Thank you!
With courage, consciousness & a sense of humour
Published March 10th, 2011
I think we all have a side of our personalities that our family doesn’t get to see and then all of a sudden you emerge with some part of yourself that is surprising to them. I’m not surprised at myself at all. It’s something I’ve always known and I think I remember trying very hard to express it as a child, but eventually I must have gotten tired of the attempt and packed it away in a box only to be unleashed when least expected.
My dad would have hated it.
It can be illusive as to what I do all day and sometimes I’m sure my family wonder how I get by and make a living. I always seem to be pottering and how far does that get one in life? What they got a taste of yesterday is that I don’t procrastinate and I don’t hoard. Yes, the one has nothing to do with the other, but in this case it would be the two worst energies to have.
We are moving house in less than 20 day and it’s filled with stuff accumulated over nearly 45 years of my parent’s marriage and the comings and goings of 5 children and 4 grandchildren. That’s a lot of stuff. I can’t blame my mom for being frozen with anticipation at starting the very tedious process of sorting and throwing out.
The toughest part is that my father was the eternal hoarder and there are things he carried from one house to the other, despite the items uselessness or dysfunctionality.
In 2004 my family home burned down. At that time I had moved all of my belongings back home because I was sharing with a friend who had a furnished house. My business was also in one section of my parent’s home at that time. Baring a fire hose soaked item or two, I lost everything. We all lost everything. The things we didn’t lose, my father washed and put back into storage and I can’t blame him for hanging onto the last few things he had. That also gave him permission to unleash himself into the world and restock the house … with more useless and dysfunctional stuff.
Don’t think I didn’t cry yesterday, but no part of needs to hold on to anything material in order to carry the memory of my dad or my incredible life as a member of this family. I think a lot of that changed after the fire and I realised that you can lose it all but you don’t have to lose any part of you in the process. If anything, it made me stronger and braver.
I knew that tossing out nearly 80% of the past wasn’t going to be easy, but it sure was good for the soul. That unexpected side of me that seems to let the days pass by, went on a mission and sorted out the majority of the house in one swoop.
Secret stashes of tinned food and bottled preserve of my dad’s was found hidden in a corner. We laugh and we cried. Silver salt and pepper sets that are over 40 years old and the most hideous soup bowls that my father must have found at a second hand store … these things were all pondered over. Keep this, toss that!
He would have hated yesterday and would have been most annoyed with me. I can imagine the scene … as I finished tossing it, he would have snuck it back into a corner somewhere. It’s not easy to let go but once you let go of people as special as my dad … I’m sure he understands that no crystal vase or antique tea pot is that difficult to give up.
PS … don’t let Saphirah fool you … she didn’t do much more than chase the odd fly and knock over a well piled stash of trash
With courage, consciousness & a sense of humour
Published March 7th, 2011I can’t even think of a picture for today’s blog. I didn’t think I would be this exhausted but I’m sure it’s the relief.
It was one of those days that was all planned out with something I have been looking forward to for months. Between the seconds that Greg answered his cellphone and passed it to me with a hint of concern in his voice, my blood turned cold. Between the seconds that my mother said “he is alright, but …” countless fears raced through my mind.
My 5 year old nephew was hit by a car.
Because the toughest lesson in ‘project me’ is making everything about me, I’ll cut through the drama and say that my brave little nephew is fine and coming home in a few hours. There are countless miracles, like the fact that the accident happened in a cul-de-sac so the car was going extremely slowly and that my sister was at a party with friends who all jumped in to help her through the initial moments while ambulances arrived. She said there was a friends husband counting every minute and telling her how far the ambulance was, so the 5 minutes it took wasn’t really the 30 minutes she felt it was.
He has no broken bones and is only complaining of a sore hand. He looks as though he went 10 rounds in a street fight and he was kept overnight for observation but woke up with all symptom normal.
As for me, I also feel as though I have gone ten rounds in a fight, but it’s all been internal battles.
When Greggie met me, everything in my life was a hysterical drama and I couldn’t cope with anything that life sent me. I literally used to crumble into a heap and things would be so chaotic that no one could determine how bad the problem really was. Years of ‘project me’ … consciousness, facing my fears, telling the truth and realising my ability to cope with life, has bought me to the point of handling fear in a much more rational manner.
Yesterday was one of the biggest tests of how far I have come. Logic kicked in and so did the realisation that life will take its course and I will be able to choose from there. But there was nothing I could do until I had more information of was there to see my nephew for myself.
I still had to choose between carrying on the plans with my friends or going to the hospital. The only reason why I considered still seeing a concert I have been waiting to see for months is because you never quite know the extent of the crisis in my family. I say that with love, but for ages you sit with no information at all and after my mom said he was fine but … I decided to rather take it one second at a time.
I chose my family … but that’s a given.
One thing I can say is that we all pull together in times of need. We never leave each other’s side, but the same old family issues bubble under. My ‘project me’ moment was dealing with them instead of carrying both fear and frustration round with me on such an uncertain day. I can’t express how big a moment it was to finally have the courage to speak with conviction and not cause a family feud.
I did burst out crying after, but that felt good to.
I don’t want children. I say it often. It’s moments like yesterday, where I see the fear in my big sister’s eyes and this fragile little boy lying in a hospital bed that I admit to myself that I’m not cut out for it this time around. I salute every mommy and daddy and grandparent out there … but not me! My big sis even passed a giggling comment confirming that this was the final ‘not for me’ straw. She’s so right. It’s still another ‘project me’ moment despite it not being what people might understand. I have had dozens of people telling me it’s the greatest gift you can give yourself and you can’t go through life not being a parent. But yesterday I had moments of greatest gifts. Every day I have moments of greatest gifts.
I’m not a ‘what if’ girl! Neither am I a ‘it could have been’ girl. I don’t hash different scenarios in my head. He might have died, he could have been paralised … no, no … there’s no place for that in ‘project me’! It is what it is! There is enough to be grateful for without having to be grateful for all that did not happen. For some reason, this realisation did something very important within me.
I’ve blogged about it before, but in these moments I always get my mother’s most focused attention and simply say “Psalm 91″. The story is long but its impactful enough for me to have traced different patterns on writing on my arm for the tattoo that is simply going to say ‘psalm 91′! Without any could have’s or should have’s … yesterday I witnessed a miracle.
Actually … what moment in life isn’t a miracle?
With courage, consciousness & a sense of humour
Published March 6th, 2011
Everyone is laughing at me because I take far too many pictures of Saphirah. I’m officially censoring the quantity of pricelessly cute moments I capture with my adorable little kitty. There’s also the devilish side that keeps waking me in the crazy hours of the morning with either a claw in my head, my butt or my baby toe. I could lock her away but that would break both our little hearts. She had her little girlie op so that she doesn’t tart around town and he little claws trimmed so that she doesn’t turn my leather office chair into a pin cushion … but never fear, you would never say she had an op. I mean really, doe she look like she’s just had an op???
It seems that of late I have been leaving out a few too many things in the blog and today I woke up with a devil may care attitude. I think it’s something in the tea, but there’s something brewing in me that knows what I want and very clearly what I don’t want and the changes are going to be slow. Therefore they certainly can’t be excluded from this blog.
I like someone. I have no idea where I stand with him but the communication is great and very constant. We’ve met so I can’t hide behind the space of waiting to see what he’ll think of me and drag up all of my body esteem issues. I still have a few of those by the way.
I am looking better and feeling better but sadly that won’t be caught on camera as I had so hoped. This has been a very censored story over the last few days but the verdict is out and I won’t be taking up the photography sponsorship or using the pics from the photo shoot. The long and short of it is that I need only those on-board who respect and understand the importance of real time blogging and the momentum is gone anyway.
I have also censored that there are a few friendships hanging by all different threads and I’m not one to keep my mouth shut, so when the time is right I need to find out what’s going on with people around me. People deleting themselves from special groups we started as friends. People not responding to special invitations I am sending out. People not saying hello on the array of social chats.
While venting about people, I’ve decided to create an ebook. I didn’t think I would ever do it but it’s time. It’s time to do a manual for people to be reminded of the courtesy of communication. It goes without saying that those basics should flow over into the social networking realms and I intend to explain why and do a little social etiquette 101.
In the next few weeks I’m going to be preparing for the move to our exciting new house. Two things have been censored and now I’m saying it.
1. I’m throwing all this shit out and moving with next to nothing. Yes, that means that a lot of things that my dad loved and held onto are now going. I’m not saying it’s going to be easy and I’ve been avoiding trying to sound ruthless, but it’s fresh start time.
2. I’m so glad that it’s just mom and me moving in together. This is the tougher one because my little sis and myself have grown so close with the build up to her wedding. My brother, on the other hand … I don’t have to say that I love everyone. If you’ve been following the blog then you know that I have a very strong family connection despite all the sibling rivalry. But the truth is the truth and there it is … I can’t wait for it to be just mom, me, country music without interruption, never running out of milk and not finding empty tins of coco powder. Oh … it’s mom, me, kitty and the very loud parrot
Yesterday I spoke to a friend of mine who I have grown up with. We know each other well but we also have times when we don’t see each other for a very long while. In one of these long breaks I went from being a very sexually insecure girl and blossomed into a very sexually confident woman. When she saw me last I was very overweight and doing alternative therapy healing. When she returned I was writing and teaching about sex. Yes .. SEX!! She’s horrified!
She keeps asking me if I’m not embarrassed to tell people what I do and say what I say in public. I keep reminding her that it’s those very statements of hers that remind me just how important my work is out there. I’m proud to lift the censorship and shame of the sex industry. I’m also proud that I think sex toys, sex shops, sex shows and sexual fun is very needed in this day and age. Yes … I talk about sex … freely!! Oh and yes … my Lifeology product is called Organic Orgasm and yes … my business partner is very proud of me.
Oh … and the ‘project me’ part of all of this is that nothing I say here won’t or can’t be said to all involved. After all, what is ‘project me’ without telling my truth?
The greatest truth of all is that it’s a bitch having to tell it!
With courage, consciousness & a sense of humour
