Take your best shot!

Life is like a....... Oh hell what do I know. I'm just an extremely complex 28 yr old with too many fairies, dreams and knights in shining armour clouding my vision.

I am struggling to even understand me as a person, so how the hell am I expected to understand life as a whole? Sometimes I think I just have cotton candy for brains and butter for judgement. Yup you guessed it – I am the worlds worst judge of character you will ever meet in your life. Its not hard for me too see the good in people but its hard to see the people who are good for me.

I guess I'm back at that stage of my life where I'm just a confused lost soul restlessly wondering life's boundaries, searching for life's answers. I'm one big ,soft hearted, hard assed contradiction. Too hard with the people that love me and too soft with the idiots who don't. Where's the happy medium?

Like the infamous Forest Gump's mom said – Life is like a box of chocolates. Hah more like people are like a box of chocolates. You never know which ones you gonna pick. And no matter how hard you examine the box, the damn chocolate company go and change all the designs whereby we are able to recognise our favourites. Damn them!

It's funny though – If I sit back and think about all the different people I have let in my life over the years, friends, boyfriends, colleagues – it doesn't really matter which ones hurt me and which ones walked out – they all came into my life for a reason an they all, through their own individual relationships with me, somehow taught me a lesson. Made me harder, stronger. Made me more cautious and less naïve. But it doesn't matter how many bad things have happened and how hard I have become I still have the three things I need to get me through my life. Hope, Faith and Love.

I still believe in fairy tales and happy endings and I still believe that there are more good people out there than bad in the world. I still believe that everyone deserves a second chance and that no one deserves to be hurt or made to feel insignificant.

It doesn’t matter what the world throws at me and it doesn't matter how complex or confused I ever may be, I have the advantage of seeing the best in just about everything, and my bouts of despondency only last for a short while, before my smile returns and I'm back to daydreaming of knights on white horses and happily ever afters and for that I say – Go on – take your best shot!

Rainbows and Butterflies! 

Its not personal.. Its just me...

Geez sometimes I can be a real dick! Its like my filter just switches off and there is nothing there to process what I feel and what I say. If only I were like new technology where I could buy myself add on parts and upgrades. (I would definitely swipe a filter on my card and not think twice!) I would even be happy to just be able to put myself on standby or sleep mode when I get like this...

I vowed I would never get Emo on my blog but since this is my release and my ,seemingly, only way of actually dealing with anything emotional here goes...

I'm mad at myself! I get so ridiculously stupidly emotionally stubborn and instead of telling the people I love how I feel I decide it best to rather keep it in and push people away. The more sad I get the ruder I become and the further I push those around me. Every time I leave home my hearts breaks a little more but instead of telling this to the people I love,l always managed to piss them off and push them away on my last day. Talk about the worlds best construction worker – just put me in a bad situation where tears may spill and watch how quickly I build a wall. Worst thing is I don't just build walls high enough to keep people out – I build them so high ,even I, find it hard to climb back over.

I become emotionally stunted and I shut down on every level.... Why? And am I the only person who gets this way and I am a bitch for not wanting to feel every single bit of hurt and pain that life has to offer? Yes - I get insecure and scared and I have days where I don't feel good enough for even myself let alone the rest of the world but do I have to stamp it on my face for everyone to see? Why cant I just retreat into my little hole and feel what I feel in private or better yet just throw on a CD and not feel at all. Sit back and rock out until the dust has settled and my world is happily rotating on its own little axis once again...

Sucky part is I don't just get like this with my family – I get like this with everyone, anyone in fact. And the more people try and help the worse I get... Maybe I am just that fiercely independent and guarded that I feel this is the best way to handle things - who the hell knows... I used to think I was just a melodramatic teenager and I would grow out of it but apparently years on, I'm still just emotionally inept, little me... All I can say is I am trying... and all I can ask is for those around me to be patient with me and please not take it personally.

So take this as a public apology to all of those who have felt the wrath of the stubborn, petulant child in me who is just to proud to cry or show my sadness to those around me. I get that I am an emotional contradiction and I am and always will be a “work in progress” .

Peace and love Homies!! 

 

Bye House....

Perched on my suitcase in the middle of the floor of my old bedroom, I'm fighting back the tears! I have been in this home for like 25 years. Granted, the last few I have been somewhat of a visitor but still all the memories and all of my most sacred and prized possessions fall inside the walls of this house. From the “I heart B.J.B” in the inside of my cupboard to the stained purple skirting from when I went through my passion for lavender and would not accept my bedroom walls any other colour. The skirting in the bathroom where the loose nail got wedged in my knee in a game of “Horsie” with my brother. The back garden where my brother I camped and I smacked him in the nose with the tent pole. The pool where we used to play games and makes big splashes to drive each other crazy.

We have had so many birthday parties and celebrations in this home. From clowns when we were young to sleep overs and eventually co-ed dance parties. Not to mention the parties we had that my parents have no idea about.... Well.. until now that is... :) Broken fingers and broken glass in the pool. Our friends have always referred to our home as their home away from home and as I sit here now and look around I cant believe its almost all over.

This was the place we all gathered when we found out Granny had cancer. The place we all came to mourn when we lost Papu and then gran just a short while later. Its the place my gran lived with us and where our bond just got that much tighter. This is where we had our rabbits, our fish, our hamsters, our birds and all our dogs. Where we used to eat ice cream in the sunshine and play catch in the front garden before we had to put walls up.

Unfortunately there are some dark times here too but no matter what this has always been home. We used to bunk school and come and hide out here. We would have lunch and watch some tv and head back to the hole in the fence again. On Saturdays the girls used to gather round my room and overcrowd my bathroom for girls night out. Clothes strewn across the bed and make up and accessories for as far as the eye can see. We used to come home at ridiculous hours the next morning and all pile on my bed and sleep off the “one too many” tequilas. When Rory moved out and dad turned his old bedroom into a lounge for me n the girls to hang out – in came the inflatable couches and out came the vodka... we would sit and chat and screech for hours on end about boys and work and all sorts of crap we could come with in my new “bachelorette” pad.

My farewell was held here with all my close friends and family and also my 21^st. Laughs and jokes and scary stories shared out in the back garden by the fire pit... We have bashed down walls and extended rooms. Not so long ago I was sitting with dad, christening his new bar with some Johnny Walker, now we have to pack up the bottles and take the pictures from the walls. The bathrooms that my parents let me helped pick the tiles and colours for... The Peach tree outside where I used to “run away” too whenever I was in trouble for breaking some thing or doing something I wasn't supposed to be doing (Yup you guessed – I spent a lot of time in that tree)

As I grew older I would sit out by the pool in the moonlight secretly puffing on a ciggie putting pen to paper.

On Sundays as a child - I used to build huge Barbie houses all over my bedroom floor and spend hours in there alone talking to myself and playing with all my dolls. Strapping my “babies” in my moms old escort and taking them “shopping”. LOL – Playing “school School” and building huge road and train tracks in the garage !

Geez this house has so many memories I could go on and on and on but for now I'm just going to sit here on my suitcase and shed a little tear in solitude and say farewell to the place I have called home for 3/4's of my life...

I know change is inevitable and I know change is good but for now I just want to sit here and say good bye to my house.

Farewell Housie!

No place like home...

So I'm a on plane flying back to my Home town of Johannesburg and although this plane is shaking and I'm shitting myself, just praying that we land soon – You see I may be frequent flyer but it doesn't make me any less scared of flying.... so anyway I'm on this plane - Aisle 30, Seat C right at the back (there is a little girl to my right who looks exactly like Snooki its frightening) and as the excitement starts building up I cant help but go on that little trip down memory lane.

The adventure that came to be me, Candice, the mommy n daddy's girl - irresponsible, reckless wild child, moving to and surviving in the Mother City all alone. 4 years later I still sometimes cant grasp the reality of the situation. Its almost like your body just goes on auto pilot and you just get safely carried along the path you chose for yourself. Sometimes I feel stupid for allowing myself to pack up my whole life and leave my home for the reasons I did but then I look back at all that I have accomplished in the last 4 years and I cant help but feel so damn proud!

Before I left home I couldn’t boil an egg! Literally! If I was left to fend for myself, I could survive off cup of soup and 2 minute noodles (made in the microwave - might I add) for days.... I had no idea how to do a load of washing and paying bills and getting to bed on time were all somewhat of a challenge to me. My first load of washing, resulted in one pre wash white hoodie that ended up pink post wash, two shrunken vests and an alarming amount of lost socks but all in all it ended better than I woulda thought. My first home cooked meal wasn’t so lucky – Note to all: Trying to make a seafood pasta as your first meal is not really a good idea. (Read: Don't eat it just cos you made it if it doesn’t taste right! - I still cant face a seafood pasta without feeling a bit faint! )

Anyhoo, so unbeknown to me my wicked, wicked family took bets as to how long the lost child would last in Cape Town for. I think the general consensus was roughly 3 months of partying, a possible fleeting romance and then either boredom or a broken heart would steer me back on my route home. Hmmm... well as I said earlier – its been 4 years and still no such luck. Don't get me wrong – I have endured boredom, done a job switcheroo, had my heart broken, made and lost some friendships – (most of them lost back home), I have moved homes 7 times in these four years and shed more tears in this city than I ever could have imagined I was capable. Yet somehow I have this strange connection to my new home. No matter how bad things have got and no matter how much I love my family and friends back home I just cant imagine myself leaving....

After all this place is where I lived in my first little home, the place I crashed my car after 1 too many “I miss home” cocktails, the place I learned to cook my first chicken curry, the place I learned that its okay to spend time on your own with your own thoughts, the place I gained my independence and the place I got to enhance my self expression, its where I fell in love and where I learned sometimes love just isn’t enough, its where I learned that not everything has to be perfect and things don't always work out to a plan. Its the place where I learned that people are not always what you think and who they seem to be. Its where I learned more about what I am capable of as a person and its where I learned that by just being you is okay because as long as you are your best its all you can be and its perfect.

If someone said 4 years ago that I would be the person I am today – I don't think I would have believed them. Call it growing up, and some say, it was inevitable regardless of where I lived but I know in my heart of hearts this is not true. I know that the time spent on my own and the lessons learned all happened the way they were supposed too. I know if I had not broken away from all that I knew and that was comfortable I wouldn’t have been forced to go to the places I went to inside myself.

So as much as I love my home and I am still 100% Joburg n will never let go of the Southern Belle within, I cant help but sit here and smile at how my life has turned out so far. No regrets... If the saying “Home is where the heart is” is true then I have two homes and feel extra super specially blessed!!

Ain't no Burger like a Joburger!!!