I should’ve listened to my mom – and a little lesson I learned

I have been struggling with my lower-back since last year October, in short my muscles went into spasm and wouldn’t loosen up. I have gone through some drastic measures to get it sorted, including physio, acupuncture, biokinetics and cortisone injections. I didn’t see the spasm for what it really was – my body’s way of saying “hey, hold up, take it easy, slow down”.

I woke up one morning so tired that I would’ve sold my soul to the devil for an extra hour’s sleep. The type of tired that I felt is something that you have no clue about, unless you have been there. Felt it.

I started going through the motions of life, simply because I had to. I had to work, so work I did. I had to study, so study I did (how much I actually took in is debatable). Going out with friends required brushing my hair and getting dressed, a thought far too exhausting so cancelling was easier.

One night when I was driving home a robot turned red, like robots do. The mere thought of a minute’s delay to get home was simply too much, so I bursted into tears. It was at this point that I realised I had burned myself out and carrying on, pushing, was simply no longer an option.

I went to see my soul coach (or, what most people will call, counsellor – though her role in my life far exceeds the way you’d define “counsellor”). It amazes me what you can achieve through constellation work (healing on a soul level). It was during this session that I learned a lesson which I will hold near and dear to my heart for the rest of this life;

Honour your journey, trust the path that you are on. Respect who you are right here and now. There is absolutely no need to rush anything – where you are is perfect. What is meant to be, will be. 

Between all the medical treatments, it was the treating of the soul that did the world of good. I woke up yesterday morning, for the first time in months, feeling like I could conquer the world, instead of hiding from it.

That said, the one “medical” treatment that I did see value in was going to a biokineticist. In my last session she indicated that we’ll be doing some posture work. The one exercise involves pulling back your shoulders, the aim is to straighten your shoulders and, as a result, your back. It was at this point that I realised I wished I had listened to my mom when I was younger, she always told me “skouers terug en rug regop”, which roughly translates to “shoulders back and keep your back straight”. I had to laugh, it turns out that mom does know best. 

The famous five

In school I was the unpopular kid. For most of my primary school years I tried fitting into the popular crowd, I just didn’t fit. As a result, I spent most of my time in the school library. In high school I didn’t know there was a library, until around Grade 10 (or Standard 8), so I was forced to try and fit in. I went from group to group, never quite fitting in and conforming to the group’s standards and opinions.

All that has changed.

Looking at my life now, I must confess I am truly blessed. They say that you can count your true friends on one hand, well, I need both my hands –and some toes too.

In this blog I would like to single out the “famous five” – in order birthdays, or turning 30 in 2013;

The mother hen. Your mom never lies to you and never sugarcoats anything, at least mine never has, – that is Mish. If you want the truth as it is, go to Mish. She will tell you if you have a foot to stand on, if you are being unreasonable or if you need to start building a bridge. No sugar, no sprinkles – straightforward, while passing you a glass of wine. Mish is also the first person to check up on you if you have flu or if you simply feel like life is getting a bit too much. Warm and compassionate, but know that an ace is an ace and a spade a spade.

The creative. Sheri can put paint to canvas, make words come alive or pair pieces of clothing that will make it look like you have a new outfit for every day of the year. A colourful person who doesn’t have even a speck of beige in her personality. If I could summarise Sheri it would be, “keep writing, keep dreaming and always believe. If all else fails, wine o’clock is always a phone call away.”

The princess. If ever there was someone destined to be a royalty it is Cath – Catherine to you, Cath to her friends, but never Cathy. Having Cath as a friend is a bit like having the perfect little  black dress in your wardrobe – timeless. Dress it up or down, you know it is the perfect outfit for every occasion. Cath is a timeless beauty, inside-out, there for a good giggle or a shoulder to lean on. She will hand you your next glass of wine or tissue – all depending on what you need.

The crazy ballerina. I will never forget meeting Kerri for the first time. There she stood in her perfectly ironed corporate outfit, looked at me and did this little twirly dance (on her toes), followed by a curtsy. She made me laugh – and still does every time I see her. She is a ray of sunshine. Also worth a mention, Kerri can do the Gangnam Style, glass of wine in hand, with such perfection, that will it look like Psy went for dance lessons with her – plus she makes it look super stylish!

Then there is me, the odd one. Not the odd one out, just the odd one. I have my own style and like fashion, but don’t get spending thousands on an item just because it is labelled with Ted-what’s-his-face’s name (personally I would rather spend that money in a second hand bookstore). I love metal and hard rock, but don’t conform to just wearing black. I havenever seen  the film The Notebook, but I have seen every Quentin Tarantino film ever made. I like snuggling with a book and cuppa tea, but I love getting together with my girls and giggling over a glass of wine.

That is the famous five. 

We often wonder how we became friends and how we manage to stay friends. I think the secret lies in that we respect each other’s differences, we value the friendship and contribution we make to each other’s lives, we are there for each other (for better or worse) and we make each other laugh (out loud), while passing around the next bottle of wine. 

The crumpling of New Year’s resolutions

I hate New Year’s resolutions – and hardly ever make them. At some point last year I made a before 2012 end’s resolution, it was quite simple, or so I thought. My year-end resolution was to be able to run 5km. I bought myself running shoes, reflective clothing and a cap. In check was my fully loaded iPod, a Run 5km in 5 Weeks programme and plenty of weeks left to do it in. I was quite looking forward to trotting along the beachside when we went to Durban for Christmas.

What I didn’t bargain on was the illnesses of an *almost* 30-year-old creeping up on me, about 11 months in advance. I have since been told that in your near 30s your back gives in (check), in your 40s your knees and in your 50s your mind. By 60 you don’t care what else goes because it is your mind you miss the most. Back to the resolutions…

As 2013 approached I decided to do the New Year’s resolutions thing. Small, simple and achievable goals (in no particular order);

1. Do my first 5km road run – preferably before Winter.
2. Read more – or at least finish my sparkling new Games of Thrones box set.
3. Spend more time with friends. Last year, due to being a part-time student, some of my favourite people were seriously neglected.
4. Pass seven subjects.
5.  Spend more quality time with bf.

The new year hadn’t even started when my well-intended resolutions started crumbling.

In early January – after a Voltaren injection, two Cortisone injections, chronic medication (or so I was told) and one, still need to happen, neurosurgeon appointment – I realised that my dream to run 5km has to be put on hold. In fact – all training has been put on hold, until such time that I know what is wrong with my lower back and what I can and cannot do (to prevent further injury).

Now the crumpling of resolutions 2 and 3 are as a result of resolution 4. I have registered for four subjects in this semester and, after assessing the workload, I realised that most of my spare time will be dedicated to studying.

In my own stubborn and dedicated way I do try and stick to resolution 2 and 3. I try and read for five minutes every night, normally while brushing teeth (it’s a skill I mastered as a child), and I’ve accounted for special events with friends in my study schedule – my iCal app is by far the most overused app on my devices – everything goes in there.

So far the only resolutions that seem to be doing ok are 4 and 5. To date I have managed to stick to my study schedule. I keep myself going by reminding myself that the faster I complete my subjects and get my BA, the quicker I can get back to this thing called a life. Bf and I are doing our best with this quality business – we now eat at the table and talk instead of in front of the TV. Plus, there are special times in my iCal entitled “Date Night”, in two cases “Date Day”.

I suppose the lesson is this – even the simplest of goals require work. Get off your butt and work on it. It reminds me of why I value reading and am desperate to hit the road; 

"The keys to life are running and reading. When you're running, there's a little person that talks to you and says, "Oh I'm tired. My lung's about to pop. I'm so hurt. There's no way I can possibly continue." You want to quit.

If you learn how to defeat that person when you're running, you will learn not to quit when things get hard in your life.

For reading, there have been gazillions of people that have lived before all of us. There's no new problem you could have – with your parents, with school, with a bully. There's no new problem that someone hasn't already had, and written about it in a book," – Will Smith.  

The mischiefs of Meeko

Having kittens seem to diminish your fear of certain creepy crawlies – certain ones and diminish, not eliminate. For example, I no longer scream at the sight of parktown prawns, I now gently – with the aid of a towel – scoot them outside, I can take a plastic bag and pick up little bits of organs and, twice now, I’ve had to pick up baby birds – their first flights didn’t go too well. As a girl, I am proud to have achieved the point where I no longer screech, jump on to counters and shout for bf to please save me.

Until last night that is.

Around 7-ish I called in the little fur-facies for supper. Tulip came bouncing in like a little squirrel cat – all purrs – Meeko on the other hand has a little game we first have to play. She runs, we chase – until she’s had her little giggles at which point she struts towards the backdoor and in she goes. It’s a fun little game, but not when you have a pile of studying lying on your desk and hopes that you could get to bed by 10pm. Bf wasn't home, so I left her.  

About five minutes later I saw my opportunity to grab her, she was on the grass and clearly preoccupied with something. As I picked her up my arm went across my chest and I felt something incredibly cold and somewhat slimy – not normal. Looking down I noticed a lizard smack on my chest – the stupid thing must’ve been in Meeko’s mouth, which she dropped and it found a landing place on me. I screamed, dropped Meeko – thankfully cats land on their feet – took about three steps back, while waving my arms franticly, and, for good measure, took of my top and threw it aside. All this took about 2.5 seconds. It took my brain about 10 seconds to realise I was standing in the backyard, shirtless.

Clearly my dislike to touch slimy, creepy things remains intact.

 

Lelani, the Grinch

I love Christmas, normally. Nothing makes me happier than the red and green colour combo, shopping for presents (I love giving gifts), putting up the tree (normally bf has to stop me from doing so in November), hanging the stockings and, most importantly, spending the time with family and friends. I even don’t mind the endless play of Boney M, in fact I actually enjoy it as it reminds me of my childhood Christmases in Graaff-Reinet with my grandparents.

This year is different… So far the Christmas tree is still in its box (covered in 2012’s dust), my Facebook profile picture is still one from a month ago (and not the traditional one of me wearing a Christmas hat), the prospect of gift shopping is as appealing as a Justin Bieber concert, and every ‘happy Christmas’ I’ve received so far has been met with a frown, a grumble and a silent middle-finger.

Even the idea of red and green festivities with loved ones leaves me feeling like I could crawl under my bed – with a bottle of Merlot and Ken Follett novel, of course – until 2013.

Somewhere in 2012 the Grinch stole my Christmas spirit or, perhaps, it is I who have become the Grinch.

Thank you to my sport-loving, uncle-like person for inspiring the title.

Review: The Twilight Saga

I get why Stephenie Meyer wrote Twilight. I get it and I’ll admit she is clever for playing on the emotions of females. As young girls we are taught that we are princesses and that a prince will one day come on his white horse and sweep us off our feet. That is until you meet your first boyfriend and he breaks your heart.

The Twilight Saga brings back the childhood hopes and dreams of true love, romance and everlasting happiness. I don’t make this shit up, the truth really is stranger than fiction.

I have read all four books and watched the movies. Don’t judge. The fact that I have read the books and watched the movies makes me a topic expert and, by default, an excellent critic.

Review: The books

Ok, let’s face it, Stephenie Meyer is no Bram Stroker and definitely no Margaret Mitchell – thankfully she isn’t quite Mills and Boons bad either. The books were fairly enjoyable, as far as mindless reading goes – to clarify, that means easy reading. The plot and flow of the story was well thought through, for most of the Twilight saga.

The fact that the vampires sparkle like an 80s disco-ball is bearable, that said vampires would give up their staple diet for love – I could handle that too, but not knowing the difference between a shape shifter and werewolf?!?!? Are you an idiot?

For those who have not read the books: Throughout the books Jacob Black and his clan are referred to as werewolves, they refer to themselves as werewolves. It is only in Breaking Dawn, the last book, towards the end, that Carlisle Cullen, head of the Cullen vampire clan, corrects the said wolf clan by explaining the difference between a werewolf and shapeshifter. Yes, please feel free to high-five your face.

Now just a quick little note for all you Twihards – a werewolf becomes one by being bitten by another werewolf. (S)he has no choice in their transformation, when the moon is full they transform and will rip your head off.

A shapeshifter is decedents from an animal i.e. a wolf. Their transformation is voluntary and they won’t necessarily rip your head off – unless they have anger issues, which clearly Jacob does.

I wouldn’t add Twilight to my top 10 list, or even 101 books, but if you have capacity and feel like an easy read – then go for it.

Review: The movies

Normally the book is better than the movie, the same could most certainly be said for The Twilight Saga. The first movie wasn’t all that bad, trust me – it really does get worse after that. To describe the movies I would have to make use of the words “awful, disastrous, dreadful, poor, unimaginative, uninspiring, boring, appalling and simply horrible” – you get the point.

But, throw in a stereotypically handsome, buff, hunk and a semi-dark, untanned, mysterious guy (who sparkles like diamonds) – and girls go wild and spilt themselves into teams. Sorry Team Jacob, Bella stays with Edward – as it is written – so please stop hoping that she’ll wind up with Jacob. And Team Edward, unless you pour glitter all over your boyfriend tonight, there is no way that he’ll be your Edward. The amount of times I have heard a girl say, “he is my Edward” or “I can’ wait to meet my Edward” is enough to make anyone vomit.

That said, I am looking forward to the release of Breaking Dawn Part 2, because, in true tradition, I will go watch it with a group of girls, with the promise of a questionable amount of wine afterwards. I will bitch about the inaccuracy of the movies – they will tell me to zip it because Jacob (or rather Taylor Lautner) is a hottie. We’ll then move on to discuss the cute pair of shoes we saw, our December plans and the latest changes in our tax laws – while sipping our choice of red or white. Because that is what girls do.

Review: Linkin Park, Living Things Tour

When we first bought tickets to go see Linkin Park Live I was sceptical. Having actually heard the Living Things album, the name-sake of the tour, left me with dread as I thought the tour would be a promotion of the latest and not-so-greatest album. Let’s face it, Living Things is the biggest tragedy to happen in 2012, possibly 2011 too. In my eyes Linkin Park went from fantastic to vomit.

 

Now you are probably wondering why the hell I then bothered to buy concert tickets then? I have only one reason – it is Linkin Park, the band that saved me from the dark clutches of glitter balls, short skirts and fake tans that dominates the Pop world. 

 

So yes, I was both excited and devastated that Linkin Park was heading to South Africa. 

 

A little glimmer of hope emerged after their Cape Town show – the show was labelled brilliant and sources said that they played all their old stuff, the good stuff. 

 

I will happily admit that my fears were unjustified, Linkin Park still knows how to rock. Yes, it was brilliant – fucking brilliant. A friend commented that Chester is a monster, I agree. The man has a voice that will leave demons quivering in their boots. 

 

My only regret is not getting the Golden Circle tickets. I sincerely hope that Linkin Park enjoyed their trip to our South African shores enough to return, because next time around I’ll be in the Golden Circle. 

 

What did not go unnoticed was, that despite that the tour was named after the last album, Linkin Park only sang four tracks off of said album, three of which I deemed listenable in my review. To add, I must question why Mike Shinoda even bothered to ask the crowd how many Living Things fans were out there. Have they realised that the new sound simply isn’t working? Only the next album will tell.