So consumed with stories at the moment I am not sure where to begin or end. Creative writing: the first lesson – establish your plot, work out the beginning, the middle and the end. But a good story never ends – it stays in the readers mind indefinitely. Little snippets remembered in random moments. Good stories last forever, with their significance and meanings changing and evolving throughout time.
My story – my story has so many different facets – my physical being, my friendships, my perceptions and attitudes, how I deal with the tough times, the hardships. How I embrace the joy, the blessings, love those around me, care for, nurture and protect those who have found their way into my heart. Seeking forgiveness and attempting understanding for those who disappoint.
Loving my stories, like the one about the man with the English accent, a beautiful face and devilishly charming smile. Always sitting across from me, day after day – housed in this office of grey and aircon – every now and then looking my way…
One Saturday Afternoon – I found myself in a penthouse apartment, a bottle of Moet on the table, trance in the air and chimes on the floor. We were talking about dreams, but the conversation was like a train that I couldn’t quite stay on – there were moments of panic – as I doubted my sense of reality against those in my company… as usual I wonder how it is I find myself in such places – an inherent attraction to excess I suppose.
Then to a different scene entirely, as I find myself on the other side of town – uninterrupted view of the sea, a bottle of wine, two girls watching England’s humiliation, blowing our noses and sneezing between blocked sentences. It’s about empowerment her and I. Conquering the world and never settling for less. We nest, regroup, and then go out to conquer once again!
Next it’s a day to support Italy. Wearing her colours and to get in the mood, a ride in the wheel of Excellence, so much excitement as we try to not rock the Gondalla. Cameras in every angle, three happy girls in a bubble and beautiful never before seen views of Cape Town. Then its wine and pasta and Andiamo, sadly another rather disappointing game…Italy you broke a few hearts!
The world cup started and this city completely changed. We all want to soak it up – to not miss anything. Each game an event – only- we try to forget that in the morning, it’s the usual grind. We want to be sucked in, make the most out of it – because as we are told time and and time again – it is once in a life time.
There are new bridges and new places, new buses. Day and night vuvuzela’s are heard. Flags – so many flags everywhere. New languages, gorgeous hot blooded football fans – always looking for the party! We are at the right age, in the perfect city to be able to enjoy everything that is on offer and I think it is going to be one of those times in my life I will remember the most.
I am sitting at my desk wearing South African colours around my arms – feeling patriotism never before felt and excited for the evening ahead.
The story inside, that perhaps no one will see, is the one about coming to terms with the violent shards of glass in my broken car – from an ill timed break in. Getting through the admin of getting it fixed. Coming to terms of a relationship now dead and buried, leaving a furious storm in my heart from the ugliness of its trail left behind. The rose coloured glasses finally tossed aside. Getting through the nights with a head full of unrealised dreams and wanting to wake up excited for all that lies ahead – it isn’t all roses, but the back drop is colourful and vibrant and exciting and maybe I will just enjoy riding out this storm– accept it all, embrace it all, the good and bad.
Sitting in a glass bubble high in the sky we came up with a sentence wonderfully profound and absurd and obvious and ridiculously South African:
We have to go through lank kak to get to the kief!