take 23...action...cut

I’m watching a movie. It’s a classic case of dramatic irony. As the audience, you know more about a character’s situation than they do. At the climatic moment you want to shout vital information to the actor that may stop them in their tracks and make them consider their next move very carefully. But reality kicks in and you know it’s just going to play out as scripted. Maybe you’ve watched it before. Maybe you haven’t. But either way, you have no control. And when all is said and done, maybe you want it to turn out exactly as it does – without your input.
Life can be like that. At times when you have no right to control, you may be screaming on the inside but it’s not going to change a thing. You have to sit back and trust that, whatever happens, you will find a way to be okay. You’ll just accept. You’ll know that there was nothing you could do to alter the scene and respect artistic licence. In this life, you’re never the director.

john is back (and a little bit jazzy)

Someone stop this train. I want to get out and go home.
My much anticipated John Mayer album, Continuum, arrived yesterday. I like John. I’ve always liked John. I’ve watched him blossom from a virtual nobody during his early days of minor TV interviews to this big superstar who is currently battling it out against JT in the US for No.1 spot on the charts.
As he accompanied me to work this morning, I intently listened as he sang about his reservations towards becoming an adult. In a distant sort of way, we’ve become adults together. Over the last 5 years John has kept a musical journal for the both of us. I know I sound all groupie-like, but it’s really not like that at all. It’s just comforting to know that a super-successful muso doesn’t have it any more together than I do. We both just want to love and be loved; run home to our parents when the world gets too much and responsibility weighs too heavy on us; have people understand that we’re not done becoming ourselves yet; and essentially, life is good.
His new sound is somewhat jazzy and initially I was hesitant, but after careful consideration I decided it’s okay because he’s just developing as a musician.
I’m going to see him in concert for the 4th time next month (I’m not a groupie, I’m not, really…). As he sings about city love, I’ll be there holding the hand of mine. And when he croons of the importance of friends I’ll smile as mine will be there right beside me. We’re not growing old John, we’re getting wiser and more secure. Maybe by the time your next album comes out we’ll have found ourselves and then what will you sing of? I wont anticipate, just patiently wait.

no blues this year

I know it’s a bit premature but, in a twisted sort of way, I’m kind of looking forward to winter. It feels like summer is over all too soon and once again I am walking to work enjoying the crispness of autumn mornings. As a measure towards self-preservation I know I need to get my attitude right before the air turns icy and I fall into a pit of despair over a permanently sunless sky.
So, instead of making my list of ‘reasons to enjoy winter’ to lift myself out of gloom, here it is early to serve as prevention from the winter blues.

• I excitedly anticipate snow for 6 months and then make puny snow angels when it falls for approximately 5 min around New Year
• I can pretend I’m a smoker as I watch my breathe freeze when it leaves my body
• Nights in are best spent eating a hearty dinner and cuddling under the duvet watching a DVD
• I get to borrow Ian’s jumpers to walk home in when I’ve foolishly left the house without one and subsequently drown in rolls of excess cotton and fleece
• This year I HAVE to go ice-skating outdoors at Somerset House. Are we actually gong to do it this year, Bron?
• I get to wear hats. I love hats, I do, I do!
• Any extra kilos are hidden under many layers of clothing and can easily go undiscovered until the first days of summer when I start to panic about winter indulgences
• Winter means Christmas in the UK and I love the holiday atmosphere when London becomes friendly for about a week and then everything goes back to normal
• Starbucks changes their menu and there are about 5 new versions of hot chocolate – yum! I think Jo has probably tried them all already.
• I really want to go skiing.

That should do me for now. Last seasons winter coat has got to go so it means an excuse to go shopping. Love shopping, love new coats, already love winter.

i want to be a couch potato

After professing my love for this city in my previous blog, I started to wonder whether the very things that keep me here are the same things that will ultimately cause me to pack my bags and head for a quieter existence.
Last night was my ‘night off’ this week. However, this night inevitably gets filled with household chores as anxiousness drives me to consider the growing pile of washing in the corner of my bedroom and the layer of hair on my carpet. The result is that my evening is no longer time off at all. It’s an odd realisation when you begin to see that all the activities, with which you fill your schedule, as much as you enjoy them, start to tire you beyond explanation.
Baring defiance towards all things domestic, last night I decided to watch a DVD rather than undertake anything else that I ‘should’ have been doing (I did them afterwards).
Bad move.
Dreamer, based on a true story about a family that nurse a race-horse that breaks its leg in a race, had me sobbing my heart out on the couch for one and a half hours, solid. After a while I wasn’t even sure why I was crying; I missed my family, I was sitting alone on my couch, the music was sad, I was tired, I’d gone shopping earlier and spent money that I really didn’t want to spend and as I looked out into the dark night, where sunlight should have been, I realised that winter is fast approaching. I used half a box of tissues and then called my step-mom and spoke to my little sister who, momentarily, put a smile back onto my face. I’m so tired and while I want to blame London, I can only blame myself. This mentality that a night at home makes me boring has got to go. Bring on Ben & Jerry and couch-potato-ness.

so much heart in my city home

I’m sitting here feeling partially thoughtful, mostly just lethargic. Week in and week out it’s the same thing. I fill my evenings with gatherings and various activities and by the time Thursday comes around I’m reflecting on how I haven’t had two minutes to myself and aware that the weekend is already a blur of social activity. I’ve often thought that, perhaps, I just don’t know how to handle London; how I consistently let it overwhelm me with its chaotic existence. But I’ve watched as others seem to fall short in its clutches, not stopping to rest until exhaustion starts to manifest itself in various ways. There are people everywhere; the roads are never quiet; there’s always someplace to be or something to do and to find a solitary spot is true gold at the rainbow’s end.
Yet, having said all this, there is something captivating here that keeps me satisfied. I like to think that London is the capital of the world. What opportunity does it not offer? Perhaps my opinion is arrogant but this place has my heart in so many ways. It is here that I love and hope and the thought of leaving, that so often crosses my mind, still stirs a premature longing that I am not ready to face. This place can make you feel so many things all at once. What a joy to call it home.

dancing duo

This had me holding back laughter in order to keep up my professional exterior while at my desk.
*note: the dancers are Ian and I. I have had numerous people question why I found it so amusing - that's why!

light entertainment

I’m not someone who watches movies in order to escape the world for an hour and a half; I watch movies to appreciate a form of art that demands imagination and intellect from its creators and audience, alike.
But somehow, I have acquired a reputation for bad movie choices. This in mind, I was anxious to take Jo and Fox to a movie I knew little about. Finding delight in small mercies, however, I was beaming at the end of Little Miss Sunshine, which made me laugh out loud until my cheeks were wet from tears, squirm in my seat and at times want to throw something at the screen to silence haughty characters.
As a family of virtual eccentrics (and a mom who just tries to keep it all together) take to the road to enter their youngest in a ‘beauty pageant’ you are left contemplating how screwed up the world’s perception of beauty has become. With clever subtleties, realistic camera work and absurdly likeable individuals, this film is entertainment with substance and a feel good motive, represented by dramatic portrayals of self discovery.
I’m going to go out on a limb by saying that you will love it. A little bit arty, but not enough to make it ‘art house’ and largely unpredictable due to clever detail - this film is sure to brighten your day.

kidnapped by leprechauns

Okay, I wasn’t really, but that would have been fun. I’m not convinced I would have defended myself successfully either as I know they’re not very big but, neither am I. Anyway, enough of that.
Ireland was just grand. We had a fabulous time on the Paddywagon with a couple of guides who entertained us with Irish humour. As we bounced around tiny country roads at high speeds (no one told Ireland that roads have advanced since the 1800’s) we enjoyed informative stories of the nation’s vast history and scenery of rolling hills and immense farmlands.
I realised that I’m not really into the whole share-dorm hostel idea. People smell and snore and seriously, is a decent shower just too much to ask? Our fellow travelers were an interesting lot but, we did meet a couple of great people and learned a few things about their respective countries. Everyone has a story. All want to see the world for different reasons.
The highlight for me was a fresh morning walk that Ian and I took through Killarney National Park. While the rest were recovering from hangovers, we snuck out and walked to Ross Castle and witnessed it’s grandeur as the sun rose on the river behind it, shining radiantly from the morning light; all this as the rest of the world slept, it seemed.
In short, our trip to Ireland was the crack.

majorca more than expected

As I sat up on the balcony of our hotel watching the sun disappear behind scattered clouds, diverting my attention only to watch the horse drawn carriage transporting tourists around Port de Alcucia, I considered how our sunny break had become more of a Majorcan adventure rather than just a holiday. The world around me seemed far more appealing than my book which I had struggled through for most of the break - reading seemed too much effort amidst the pleasure of doing nothing.
The first couple of days were welcome relief from our arrival experience which was unappreciated after hours of flight delays and a few unnecessary circles around Port de Alcudia, at 1am, in an attempt to locate our accommodation. On arrival, the receptionist, who I’m convinced was actually Clark Kent (so akin was his resemblance) elicited much eye-rolling from Ian and I, as we recognized his accent to be South African. Without much regret he informed us that there was, in fact, no space for us in the hotel itself but they had arranged for us to stay in the adjacent apartments for our first night. Already weary from our travels, we disapprovingly followed as he led us to our accommodation. Our faces spoke a thousand understandings as, simultaneously, we felt the bass from the nightclub directly beneath us. Even my Grease Lightning, Olivia Newton-John karaoke rendition didn’t bring respite from the situation as we considered the lack of air-con, solid beds and rowdy neighbours. But sleep was involuntary and the next day the manager gladly compensated us for our troubles.
Majorca is beautiful. Thanks to a situation involving extra strong UV rays and non-waterproof sunscreen we decided to drive around the island on our second day rather than risk further injury due to over-enthusiasm at the novelty of a beach. The mountain passes, though treacherous, held many secrets. As we rounded corners we were greeted by magnificent views - a crystal clear lagoon or a village tucked away in a mountain forest.
I wont go into detail of how both of us contracted the Majorcan ‘lurgy’ within 12 hours of each other. Sadly, the memory of a wonderful finale dinner in a local tapas joint, complemented by good food and wine and a cheerful Majorcan waiter, is slightly tainted as I got to taste it all twice. The trip home was largely unpleasant, not just for me but Ian too who lovingly tended to me in my forlorn state as I winced and shivered. Having been through it 24 hours prior to me, he was sympathetic, choosing not to tease me which I had done mercilessly to him. Nasty girlfriend eats humble pie.
I’m left with a hint of a tan which is likely to fade within the week, but Majorcan sunshine will live on. This is where you think I’m going to get all mushy. I mean in the numerous pictures we took – hello!

summer break (in autumn)

I’m off to Majorca this afternoon and then to Ireland so I wont be around for the next little while. I’m sure there’ll be plenty of stories as I endure Fox’s driving (kidding Fox – I’ll wait until I’ve actually driven with you to really give you a hard time) and tolerate soaring temperatures in the Spanish sun while lazing on the beach before taking a dip in the Mediterranean sea. A girl’s gotta do what a girl’s gotta do.

the write stuff

I haven’t had much to blog recently and at the risk of losing my handful of dedicated readers I am hesitant to bore with details of yet another pleasant but, more than anything, relaxing weekend.
I know what you really want. You want dramatic stories with a twist of comedy. Perhaps a little tale to which you can relate; something that strikes a cord. Maybe you laugh out loud or hold back a tear or two and then my job here is done. At that point I will have elicited the effect that every writer pursues; writing something that people want to read.
I’m really struggling with my latest assignment. I have to establish my target readership and then explore the market and suggest to which publications I am going to attempt to submit story ideas. The only problem is that I don’t really want to write the type of stories that most magazines publish.
I guess that the heart of my struggle is my proud stand against most things our culture promotes. Not only does this put me on the back-foot from an awareness point of view but also limits my writing options. Is it possible to write an article that grips your average reader while still encouraging moral upstanding and pure ethics? The job at hand is tough – made tougher by an audience who has stopped seeking truth and instead has filled the gap with temporary pleasures and indulgent pick-me-ups. I may not change much of the world, but I’m certainly not going to let it change me.