Heehee I keep playing this video over and over. I’m in love with the spunkiness of this girl and I want her wardrobe – especially the tiny green frock with the white tights and yellow cardigan — so cute! Thought I’d share it just for fun
I watched Jack last night with the kids and then binge watched The Crazy Ones again while I waited for my husband to get home from his cricket match. He then crawled into bed with me and binge watched it too. Until way later than he should have.
During the releasing of the ducklings scene on one of the earlier episodes of The Crazy Ones I suddenly thought it’s weird that I don’t feel sad watching this. I had kind of expected to. But I could still laugh. I guess that’s where the world as a whole is kind of lucky. We didn’t lose a husband or a father or a friend. We lost an icon. And we only need a television set to revisit him. We can, if we wish, simply pretend.
I won’t pretend to be an expert on suicide or depression. I won’t pretend to understand fully. I think personally I am very much inclined towards possibly serious depression and anxiety from time to time (ok fine — all the time). Being a hyper-sensitive person in a world that seems to have collectively learned how to be cold has its challenges. I hope that if it ever gets really bad that I might be brave enough to ask for help, though to be honest I probably won’t.
The thing is: life feels really long sometimes. We all love to yell “carpe diem” and wax on poetically about how we need to use every moment. Am I the only one who feels like it’s a bit of a farce? Now and then I catch myself thinking “Another 40 years of this? Really?” None of us actually asked to be here. And yet here we are. Here we are loving people who have the power to hurt us in every conceivable way. We’re going through the tedious motions of what is expected – living impossibly busy but often empty lives. Sometimes we start the day with little more than the goal of getting through to the other side of it. Our friends get cancer and they die. We lose people constantly – to accidents, to suicide, to murder. Daily we are bombarded with just how fucking crap it is to actually exist. I’ve just this minute seen a photograph of dead children covered in blood. We’ve got Christians and Muslims killing each other. We’ve got human trafficking. Rape culture. Ignorance. Oppression. Homophobia. Racism. Slut shaming. Fat shaming. Misogyny. Bullshit. We’ve got factory farming which is literally (yes literally) worse than anything your mind will allow you to imagine. We’ve got the homeless on our streets and we’ve got governments who are making their already difficult lives even harder. We’ve got people stealing our pets and using them as bait for dog fighting. We’ve got high jackers dragging four year old boys to their deaths (I couldn’t even type that without my breath catching and now there are tears pouring down my face). We deal with permanent powerlessness when it comes to the things that hurt our lives and the lives of our loved ones. Not only do we have to somehow manage our own baggage, but add a spouse and children to your life and guess how much the baggage grows!
I’m not saying that depression isn’t real – of course it is. But fucking hell life sucks enough without it! Add depression on top of “just life”? Bloody hell! Yes, enjoying all the little things can make a huge difference….but….but there’s always a but. I should feel grateful that my children are not being bombed in Gaza. And I am. But how do I not mourn for those who are? How do I not feel guilty for having what others do not? I am grateful to know that my family loves me. But how do I not mourn for children who do not have that for themselves? Sometimes all I want is peace from the thoughts and life that seems to so fully consume me, as if it is gnawing at my very bones and digesting my entire essence. I cannot be the only one.
Here we are in an age where we are so connected to each other, and yet how many of us feel like these tools that were meant to bring us together have only made us more disconnected from our own lives? This massive disconnection from self is crippling. It is exhausting. It is overwhelming. It can be worked on, yes. But it takes work. Something more to make you feel like you might be failing. Being “ok” does not come nearly as easily as being “not ok” does. It is the joke of The Universe. It is why we need to constantly feed ourselves with all sorts of things to keep afloat. Be it art or literature or entertainment. Or food or booze or drugs. Be it hanging around people whose views uplift you. And even then, all that “filling” guarantees nothing because sometimes there’s just a hole in the bag…
I saw someone say today that perhaps if Robin Williams had known how much he was loved he would still be alive today. That’s a kind of sweet (sad?) thought, but I don’t think that it’s necessarily true.
I need to say here that I promise I am not going to commit suicide. I gave up my right to do so the day a second blue line showed up on my pregnancy test. But the thing is….so often I find myself tired of being alive. And that is not a reflection on my family or my friends or any sort of lack of love. I know I am loved and I am blessed in that regard. I also have an extraordinary amount of love for others. That in itself can be debilitating, though I admit that loving my son brings with it a certain flicker of hopefulness.
But love is not a cure for life. It may act as a soothing balm from time to time, but the magic of love is limited. There is no cure for life except to get to the other side of it. I may never choose to hurry that process by my own hand, but I sure as hell will never judge someone who made that very real choice for themselves.
So to Robin Williams I can only say this: I know that we the public did not fail you in our love for you. I know that your family did not fail you. I know that your friends did not fail you. And I know that you did not fail yourself.
It was Life who failed you. It is, after all, what Life is best at.
Rest in Peace, dear friend. You will be missed, and always loved. You may not have been your own reason to keep going, but I think in a very big way you have given many many others a reason to get through just one more day.
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This feng shui fuck is my front door. A really rainy winter caused a bit of havoc with the wood, which expanded and contracted and then broke the glass. Add a lot of opening and closing (read:slamming) of said door and you’ve got this mess. I’ve recently convinced myself that if I get it fixed a lot of other shit will kind of fall into place. Unfortunately the quote to fix it was over 4k.
I used to think that I was a pretty patriotic person. I’m American as well as South African, and I always kind of thought I had that “patriotic love” for both countries. I don’t though. That’s not to say that I don’t love my country (or countries) it’s just that I don’t really want to see myself as a die-hard South African or a die-hard American. I certainly don’t wear stars or stripes and I don’t do the green and gold thing. I love my countries. But I am a citizen of the world. OR at the very least I want to be. My fandoms, however….*sigh*….those I have a lot of die-hard feelings about. Harry and The Doctor (who I sadly could not photograph) will have my undying love and affection forever.
So I’ve learned of late that creativity challenges are possibly not for me. I’ve done a lot of dreaming about what I’d like to be writing about and photographing, and felt a lot of resentment and annoyance when thinking about the stuff I am meant to be doing for “challenges”. Blegh. Kind of counter-productive.
So…the writing challenge I am definitely skipping. But yay for getting to share about my boob habits and some of my favourite words….right? At the moment it all feels creatively irrelevant to me. PLEASE don’t get me wrong – these kinds of things can be magical for one’s creativity sometimes. I like these sorts of things usually because they kind of remind you about yourself…which is something that needs doing from time-to-time. Writing challenges ask after your fears, your appreciations, your thoughts, plans, dreams. These are often good things to think about, especially if you’re usually too chaotic to give them any time. Sometimes a writer’s challenge which seems to be about one thing, will inadvertently teach you a whole other lesson. In my real life I live in a buzzy onslaught of thoughts that I should be getting down though. Attention must be given to those things which breed excitement. Attention must be given to the things which arrive at the right time.
As for photography challenges? I should really make an effort on those. For one: I’ve gotten my kids to do the July Challenge with me. At the moment they are winning!! So I will need to catch up lest I be shown up. Their energy makes me kind of excited about it. I also need the creativity nudge in this department because let’s face it: so far my new hobby has me taking a thousand pictures of my kid. It is time to move on from that comfort zone a bit.
Although…I do admit that Noah is probably going to feature a lot in this challenge as well anyway…
We kind of decided to give up on trying to get my eyes fixed today. Which kind of sucks because I was really looking forward to it, but is also kind of a relief because I can really not handle dealing with medical folks any more. I need a break. My husband needs a break too.
It’s funny how ridiculous these kinds of things can make you feel.
Here is the thing though:
We want to know exactly how much of this R15 000 procedure will be covered by our medical aid. They have agreed to pay for it out of our Medical Savings and have assured us that they have an agreement with The Eye & Laser Institute of Port Elizabeth which stipulates that they will charge Discovery clients at Discovery rates.
Confident of this we booked our first appointment, paid for it, and then discovered on claiming the money back that not all of it was covered.
I’m pretty sure most normal people don’t have five favourite words.
I happen to have three:
I love the way those words feel in my mouth. I love what they mean. I love how they sound.
If I have to choose two more I think they would have to be bubbles and discombobulated.
So a couple of friends are doing this Writer’s Bootcamp thing and I kind of thought about doing it and then thought I didn’t really feel like it and would rather take pictures, but I’m done taking pictures for today so I re-thought about it and decided to do both. We’ll see how long it last. Bet amongst yourselves if you wish…
I reckon I’m pretty much an open book most of the time so finding something that most people don’t know about me is a bit of a challenge. You can ask me anything and I will most likely be far more honest than you were hoping for. It can get a little awkward. I think I spent a very long childhood learning that being myself was mostly unacceptable (didn’t we all?) so I might accidentally overcompensate for that in my adulthood.
Anyway…. You might not know that I hardly ever wear bras. I suppose that might be weird for some folks but I have become really comfortable with it. I don’t have tiny breasts either, they’re pretty average-sized, so it’s not a case of not bothering with bras because I have nothing to put in them. I’m not really sure why I made the decision. Comfort mostly. I’ve since become kind of less horrified by the idea of having a nipple show through a t-shirt (seriously – it’s a nipple – get over it!) or a jersey, and I don’t think I’m even too worried that they’ll pop out of anything. They’re just breasts, right? I think they’re becoming perkier…although that could totally be my imagination….
This is my passageway. Those window frames have been up on the wall since just after we get married. I have been planning to put our wedding pictures in there for over two years now. I hate that they’re still empty. I really just need to find the money somewhere and sort it out. I think it will be gorgeous once it’s done. Funny enough the absolutely disgusting floor doesn’t bother me nearly as much. The floor won’t be getting any “fixing” attention any time soon.
So it seems that a whole boatload of my friends are doing a writing challenge on their blogs at the moment. It’s kind of fun seeing their individual responses to the challenges. I considered doing the writing challenge myself but then thought that since I’m having so much fun with photo-ing at the moment maybe I should do a photo challenge instead…
Here’s my problem though:
I truly am having so much fun playing with my camera (you can check out my results on tumblr). Poor Noah. He is so sick of me! I need to get a little more creative. Maybe let him play with his camera a bit while I play with mine. He seemed to respond well to me letting him take my picture yesterday. But photo challenges strike me as so….uncreative! I suppose if you’re brilliant you can turn any topic into a masterpiece. I certainly am void of that ability.
First, I’ve already bathed and am in my PJs and I have recently had to admit to myself that “taking a selfie” is not my forte. I SUCK properly at it. Luckily my camera has a screen that kind of flips out, so that helps. but still. I need to skip selfie’s for a while. Finding a selfie-less challenge was a challenge in itself. Another challenge was finding a challenge that wasn’t all American Summer themed.
Anyway: I found one that doesn’t suck (I’ll post it in the next post). So we’re gonna try it. And then maybe we’ll try another one sometime too
Happy eveninging, folks!