The Spider Wars

 Last night, I picked up a spider-related injury.

It is not what you think it is.

As you may or may not know by now, I am severely arachnophobic. I mean, I am scared of many things in life, but I can typically ignore those fears and continue with my life despite them. But spiders, they paralyze me. Or make me move faster than I have ever moved. Or both, in some instances.

I have been alone at home for the last week while my husband takes care of a family matter. It has been a nightmare. It started on Monday, when I started packing the dishes into the dishwasher from the kitchen basin, and, as I moved the last item, and a big hairy spider was sitting in the basin. Needless to say I could no longer use the basin.

There have been a few encounters with them during the week, from the dead spider carcass that blew across my desk to the small spider crawling out of the bushel of apples I was sorting.

But the final straw happened last night. I went outside for a last smoke (yes, I know, go away) and when I was ready to back inside, there is the eight legged monster sitting on the door, just above the door handle.

So, now I was trapped outside.

I tried throwing a few plant materials at it, but this had no effect, especially since it was all leaves and lightweight. I tried to throw my shoe at it several times, and missed each time.

By this time, I was frantic, and texting my husband. He’s sitting on the other side of the planet, watching me through the camera covering our back garden, probably laughing his ass off, and trying very hard to be supportive.

Finally he suggested that I should use the torch on my phone, light up the area around the hosepipe, and just use the hose to blast the bastard off the door.

It took me about ten minutes to work up the courage to do this, but finally, I managed to wrangle loose the hose pipe, turn on the tap and then blast the doors.

And the bastard slid himself in between the two doors, snug as a bug in a rug, avoiding the arctic blast of water coming his way.

Fuck.

But I persisted, and eventually managed to wash him out of there, and then he disappeared.

Ok, so I couldn’t see him anymore. Felt safe to return inside.

So carefully returned the hose to the web-covered hanging space on the wall, closed the tap while quietly dying inside and returned to the door, torch still on.

Yanked the door open and stepped back quickly, torch still my guiding light, no sign of the asshole on the inside of the doorframe. Ok. Scan around the door, and there is the little fucker, at the bottom of the door frame, right where I would enter.

Deep breaths.

I can do this.

So I haul myself in over the little step and into the house in a very swift movement, avoiding touching the ground around where the monster is hiding.

And as I step inside, I twisted my ankle.

Ignoring the pain, I yanked closed the door, locked it, and ran upstairs.

And so it came to be that I had a spider-related injury without ever touching one.

Starting again again

via GIPHY

 

So, it has certainly been a while. The last two years have been… a lot…

I’ve said goodbye to my grandfather, father and grandmother. My mother’s currently being treated for cancer.

We’ve moved house, and moved again. And I keep writing blog posts in my head that never quite make it here.

But, it is a new year, and I have things. Maybe even words.

We bought a house last year, another fixer-upper, and the garden is a blank canvas. So soon, I will start with my seedling, and try and fill up the life-spaced gaps with green friends.

And here I am again…

And here I am again, aimlessly scrolling through post after post on social media, a visitor in the lives of many I haven’t really spoken to in years. Some are from a previous life. And yet, we cling to each other in a desperate hope to feel human, like we have this vast audience of others, that we are important.

And while I scroll, I lament the minutes, hours, I could have spent doing other things.

And I promise myself that tomorrow will be different. Tomorrow is the day where I ditch social media to return to the things that made me happy before.

But tomorrow, I will sit and look at pictures of books rather than reading them. Again.

Things that go ping at two midnight

Because so little makes sense some times.

Because I am still struggling to extract the last of our money out of South Africa, and dealing with South African bureaucracy is actually causing me physical pain.

And in my head, I imagine this continuing for years to come. And I am starting to plan our next move, because, thank you Theresa, we need to leave the UK in just over two years from now. Yes, we will indeed be performing our very own Brexit. Because, fuck us, we are on the wrong visa. Just three little letters make such a big difference. ITC. Not general. ITC means we have to leave. Oh, we can come back a year later, but quite honestly, I don’t think I have more than one more international move left in me. Because moving countries is traumatic and stressful and expensive. The last one wiped out the bulk of our savings, and we are not getting younger and we need to think about our futures.

So I can just imagine that in a few years from now I am still going to struggle to get our money out of South Africa, but I am also going to have to try and get our money out of the UK. And who knows, maybe Ireland is not our forever home, and we end up doing this shit again, and eventually, I’m going to have to be a short-order cook at a chippy to be able to pay for a spot where the husband and I pitch our tent, because all our money is tied up in various countries, and even then it is not enough to live on, and we are 90 years old and the only thing I can do is deep fry shit.

I may or may not be having a small meltdown.

And I am still unable to post pictures to my blog. Which is why I am not blogging much at the moment.

On dreams

The inspiration for my domain name and onilne name is not, as many think, the Rammstein song. Instead, it is this one:

Tomorrow, after being a fan for more than 20 years, I finally get to see this band live. Live. In the flesh. I may just explode.

On Star Wars and current politics

I have been thinking a lot about politics recently. And by recently, I mean the last few years, actually.

I am by no means politically savvy, and I often feel so lost in the noise created on social media and in the media, that I dip into little pools of apathy on occasion. But the decisions made by people in far bigger offices than I ever hope to occupy often have such a big influence on how we live, that I have no choice but to think about politics.

I tend to lean towards left social libertarian on the political scale, which generally means I believe that government exists to serve the interest of the population, not just a select few, and believe in individual freedom as well as social equality. Because I want a future for my child. And for my husband and myself. And everyone else I care about. And every one else in the world too. I make mistakes often, but I am willing to learn.

Having grown up and lived in South Africa for most of my life means a lot of the thinking I’ve been doing has revolved around South African politics, but the recent re-emergence of the right in both the US and UK have expanded my thoughts to include more of the western world. There have been flare ups of right wing activity across Europe, but it has not been quite as visible as in the UK and US, especially after first the Brexit referendum and then the US elections that put right wingers firmly into the White House.

I have learned a lot about politics from the media I consume. And I consume a lot of media. But the two biggest influencers on my political learnings have been Star Wars, and the writings of Terry Pratchett.

It is no secret how much I love Star Wars. And while the series has some flaws, it is a very good alternate universe to relate our current political situation to. In particular, I often think about the parallels between Palpatine and current world leaders, and specifically Jacob Zuma, the current president of South Africa.

There has been a lot of talk on both social media and in the news about the state of South African politics and the influence that a certain family have on Jacob Zuma. And many have speculated that this family control the current political landscape in the country.

I have a slightly different theory. I believe that Jacob Zuma is a master manipulator, and very good at playing politics. He, like Palpatine, has been manipulating situations for a very long time, and have lined up several fall-guys long before they are needed. And I believe the Gupta family play the role of the Trade Federation from Star Wars. They are perceived to be in power and pulling the strings, but I think he has set them up as fall guys too. In his mind, he will be the ultimate ruler of the empire – well, either him or his son, who has benefitted greatly from his father’s political dealings.

No amount of dirt will cling to JZ, because he will always have a fall guy lined up, and he will always be several steps ahead of everyone else, especially because most people believe him to be an illiterate fool. And this is why he laughs each time someone takes him on.

Five

Today I sat on the grass in Sea Point, sunburnt, homesick, miserable with many, many thoughts floating through my head, reading Amanda Palmer’s The Art of Asking. And as I read, I cried several times. But in a good way.

A long, long time ago, when I started blogging, I wrote for me and wrote what I wanted to. Over the years, however, I have self-censored too much, to the point where I no longer write anything other than trite little comments. Maybe I will write a bit more for me again.

The bit that got me most though was where she described a conversation with her mother in preparation for a talk at Microsoft, and her mother recalled how teenaged Amanda would say that her mother wasn’t an artist, just a computer programmer. Her mother went on to say:

You know, Amanda, it always bothered me. You can’t see my art, but… I am one of the best artists I know. It’s just… nobody could even see the beautiful things I made. Because you couldn't hang them in a gallery.

While I don’t write programs, I have done and continue to do many, many artistic creative things in my IT career. And while you cannot hang it in a gallery, I am still proud of where I am today. But there has always been this voice, I guess it is the Fraud Police, telling me that I have sold out, because I chose to focus on IT rather than writing. And this happens every time I see a friend or family member publish a book, or do something visibly creative. Maybe now I can finally tell the Fraud Police voice to fuck off.

On travelling for business

Something I hear often recently is what a jetsetter I have become and often the comment has a slight undertone. A mix of awe and jealousy. What a glamorous life I must lead now, with flights to distant locations and hotel stays and restaurant dinners.

But travelling for business is nothing like travelling for pleasure.

The first time you stay in a great hotel is, well, great. You marvel at the luxury wrapped snugly in your fluffy hotel gown while possibly eating the overpriced nuts from the minibar. But the marvel fades rapidly after the first Skype call home and soon the hotels become a blur and you miss your own bed like it is a missing limb. And when you travel for business, you typically don’t get to experience the sights your exotic destination offers, because, surprise, you’re working. And because you’re away from home and your own stuff, you may even work a little more than you would when you are at home. Because travel for business can be lonely.

You do find things to keep yourself busy with. Most hotels have a gym, so many use this time to improve their health. Even I’ve started doing some exercises at night in my hotel room – I’m not quire ready to touch equipment used by others. I’ve also been able to catch up a little on my reading, as I have fewer distractions. Mobile hobbies are important.

After a while, I crave home cooking, even my own. I tend to avoid going to restaurants by myself, especially the hotel restaurant, unless I have no other option. Because eating by yourself can be miserable, and I’d rather be miserable in my hotel room wrapped in the hotel gown, feet snuggly in the hotel slippers while pounding away at my laptop getting another hour or two of work in.

I do, however, try and make a point of giving myself a little bit of extra time in the nicer places, so that I can go see some sights at least. Like these:

Sunset in Camps Bay

The Harbour in Hout Bay

 

Sunday 6:50

My old friend insomnia is back in full force. But, just for funsies, he has decided that he will let me think I am getting sleep, and only visit at 3am, once I have actually had a little bit of sleep. So, just to be difficult, I now go to sleep at 9pm *grin*

So, I’ve been quiet for a while. I was incredibly lucky and managed to land my absolute dream job, which I started at the beginning of March. Starting at this company has been equated to drinking water from a fire-hydrant, which, I can now tell you, is a fairly accurate description.

Because of the new job, I have decided to consolidate my travel blog and this one again. I have imported the posts and comments from that blog into this one and will post all travel related posts to this blog. I will make some time to complete the posts about our UK and Germany trip last year over the next couple of weeks. The new job also includes a fair amount of travel, so I may possibly post some more pictures, even if there isn’t time for real updates. The first trip is to Seattle at the end of this month with a couple of colleagues and I am sure I will be taking loads of photos, as we are also planning a couple of touristy outings while we’re there.

Our grand design (or the slow moving sludge, as I like to think of it now) is, well, moving at the pace of slow moving sludge. When I last wrote, we had just employed someone to do some architectural work for us to get the plans council ready. A slight case of ignorance led me to believe that this would be completed within a week or two (probably because he said so) and that, by now, we should be nearing plan approval. Boy, was I wrong. It took him some time to get the original plans back from the council and then, I think, he took a bit of a break from all that strenuous work. He picked up the pace again in the last week and have finally done the final measurements he requires to draw the last bit of the plans. It also turns out that there was some work done on this house that did not have council approved plans, which means we now need to provide 3 sets of plans: as it was, as it is now and as it will be. No doubt this will add some additional delays, but our plans guy feels like he should be able to submit the plans in the next two to three weeks. I am not holding my breath. This does push our estimated start date out to early June, depending on how long the Council takes to approve the plans

We’ve had some really soggy weather recently (I believe it was to prepare me for Seattle), and now, sadly, the roads are covered in leaves and the mornings are chilly. I am not quite ready for Winter’s arrival, but I think Winter will arrive regardless. At least we still have some spectacular mornings:

Saturday 7:44

I think it is safe to say we are never again going to experience Summer. We seem to be stuck in this eternal springtime, which is great and everything because I generally prefer milder weather, but means I cannot really swim. And all I want to do is swim.

Well, its not all I want to do. I also want to paint a bunch of jars and fill them with pretty things, like light. And I also want to build some furniture. And plan a party*.

We recently travelled down to the coast to where my mother lives to join her in celebrating a milestone birthday. The week-end felt like one of those movies, you know those where someone goes home for a special occasion and all sorts of quirky funny things happen. Yes, one of those. It was special. And a wonderful chance to reconnect with some folks from my past and a great change of perspective. I have thoughts. About life, the universe and everything.

It is exactly two months today until my next milestone birthday. I think I have made peace with it, mostly, probably because I am still a kid at heart and age is just a number, right. And another 4 months and 15 days later, the husband reaches the same milestone. We decided we will celebrate this one. *So I have a party to plan.

And, it is November. I feel a little guilty now for deciding not to do NaNoWriMo this year, but I think the picture a day compromise is a fair one. The words will have to wait until my muse is ready to return.

Friday 18:15

I’m still here. Things are just quite busy at the moment. We’ve been engaging with a (our) builder, and this past week interviewing kitchen companies, because the great facelift of the new house is imminent. This is kind of scary, so many grown up decisions to make. But the picture in our head is beautiful, and so we will put on our grownup shoes for a bit and do this. Because it will be worth it.

In less than two weeks’ time we are hopping on a plane again to visit my mother for her birthday. I think it is going to be great fun, and I am looking forward to some beach sand between my toes.

I’ve been trying to take a photo of the sunrise every morning. Maybe it is time for a picture a day month again. I think I will do that instead of NaNoWriMo this year, because I do not think I have the energy to even attempt thinking about NaNo this year. Nope. I will do 30 pictures of November instead.

And now, for something slightly different*

This is funny. Just saying.

*No rights infringement intented.

14:28 Saturday afternoon

I should be packing. I did pack four boxes this afternoon, but I really should be packing. You see, we sold our house, and we need to move. Not that we’ve found a replacement house yet. Because that house – that house – broke our hearts.

It was beautiful, and we could see ourselves living there. And I even found a spot for the books. And a spot where I can sit and read.

But, alas, that house is, apparently, not for us.

But I guess it is a little understandable. We had this great plan. Sell our house, go rent another house for a while and then pack up and go to the wild blue yonder. Not sure which wild blue yonder, as this week, we want to live in Germany. Last week it was Cape Town, the week before that it was Japan. We have wandering hearts.

But so, for the last couple of weeks, we have slowly started packing our belongings into boxes. And looking at houses. We looked at rentals, and then we thought that maybe, just maybe, we should buy a house. And we got our hearts broken, because we fell in love with a house, but put in an offer just a little too late.

So we’re back to looking at rentals, because we are running out of time. And back to wanting to live all over the world.

Packing up your things is an interesting journey. I enjoyed packing up our CD collection, because we have some great gems that we often forget about.

And the graphic novels and comic books…

And the many…

Many…

Many…

Books…

Have packed 13 boxes of books so far, and I haven’t even made a dent.

And, of course, I keep buying more.

In just under 80 days, we are on our way to the UK, so we need to find a house and move quite quickly. No pressure

Bipolar on my mind*

In 2003, I went crazy. And not long after, I spent some time in a hospital, where I learnt I wasn’t actually crazy, but just a little unwell. And there was Karen, who could have been my mirror, if she wasn’t Zulu. And she loved this song.

I was standing in the shower this evening, thinking, as one does, about life and things, and this song popped into my head, and I instantly wondered what happened to Karen. Because I suck at keeping in touch with people. I really do. I try, and with Facebook and Twitter, it has become easier, but I suck at keeping in touch.

But as I was thinking, I realised it was 2013. Ten years since my last breakdown. And then I thought about the 10 years before that, and realised I had another breakdown then. And then years before that, I had my first. So I cannot help but wonder…

But maybe, since I’ve named the dragon, and I know what it looks like, just maybe I have it under control?

In just 22 days, we will be at the coast for 6 days of sunshine and mountain and ocean. I think we really do need a holiday. And I look forward to playing the tourist game in our own country.

Oh look, clouds.

And when we come back, we pack and hopefully find a new home to live in as a temporary base until we figure out where our next step is. Because stuff. And things. And places.

* with respect, the title is a play on this:

Mostly because that was the in-head entertainment during the shower that sparked all of this.

I still wonder what happened to Karen. But I can’t exactly post on Twitter that I am looking for my long-lost Zulu sister from the looney bin. But maybe I can find her on Facebook. I’ll go looking. Watch this space.

Monday 19:02

One of the biggest lessons I learnt in the little bit that I have travelled is that, in order for people to live together, we need to have a couple of rules and keep to them. So you, you stupid mofo who thinks you don’t need to indicate when you turn your oversized beamer in front of other traffic, you’re an ass. And you, you stupid little man who thinks it is ok to drag a full sized trolley into the basket queue and then feel offended when someone takes you on about it, you’re a fucking idiot…

I am not a big fan of humans right now. In general, they piss me off, make me sick and generally annoys me. There are individuals that I like and some that I even love, but as a collective, they should really just be exterminated.

In other news, it looks like we may be starting the next leg of our adventure towards the end of April – this will be confirmed in due time. I wish I could say this leg would stretch across the ocean, but for now it will just be to another suburb in Jozi. I am looking forward to a change of scenery.

And now, for a duck.

In 30 days from now, we head off to Cape Town for a couple of days, and in just 143 days, we’re off to the UK and Germany for a bit.

And now, here’s a cat:

Sunday 10:44

I haven't blogged in a while. I haven't had much to say.

Actually, I've gotten myself into the bad habit of believing I don't have much to say.

In 60 days we fly to Cape Town for a long weekend. This may not sound like much, but I am super-stoked. It is our first local holiday together where we're not staying with family. Also, really missing the ocean.

I've been planning another trip recently. No, not our trip to the UK and Germany later this year (which is, like, totally still happening, dudes). No, another trip. To Finland mainly, for the end of 2014. Because I need to sleep in a glass igloo and see the aurora from my bed. And this brings me so much happiness.

Saturday 8:09

I point at myself and laugh. Because I really did believe, ever so briefly, that I would participate in NaNoWriMo this year and actually write. You know, commit to the words and all that. November’s not over, but NaNo is for me. Instead of actual writing, I played Sims and got those little virtual people to write all teh awesome books.

In other news, I have no other news. Our house is still on the market and still not sold. In limbo we shall remain for the remainder of the days of the year twenty hundred and twelve.

It is raining and it is glorious.

I want breakfast, but due to my amazing domestic goddess skillz, there is nothing in the house to eat, so having breakfast would involve not only leaving bed but also leaving home.

Have I told you how much limbo sucks?

But here, have a polar bear, because, like kittens, they make everything betterer:

[source unknown, picture saved from tumblr]

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From the archives: the back of a random bus. I liked the dolphin.

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The glass and angles in my place of work creates interesting reflections.

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My magic socks.