I remember lisening to 5fm when I was in a cast for the first time, and hearing Black Hole Sun about 300 times a day. I loved that song, and I was all sore and in fibeglass and miserable so I would cry when the song got all whirring and strong. I pitied myself so much back then. That was 96, and everyone wore black and white Adidas and smelt like CK One, and I was waiting, waiting, to meet my first real boyfriend.

I went shopping on a large scale on Monday. The visa application thing went well, and the OVC lady seemed impressed with my preparedness. After knowing this would definitely work, then being taken down a few notches, I'm right back up there - and I won't allow some silly mistake in my application be the thing that makes this NOT work.

Lau was fun in the car. She told me a lot about her life. A buddy of ours says she's fun to party with but that he feels like he has nothing to talk to her about - I don't feel that at all. She opened up quite a lot, and so did I, about girl friendships and how she's been hurt before; and ex-boyfriends and her current beau; about the UK and how great it's going to be.
We bought gloves - they were marked R45 but when they rang them up were marked down to 5 bob! So I bought her a pair too - they're soft and white. Rationale - UK = cold. Thus, must have stylish gloves. We bought matching enormous sunnies, black, not tortoiseshell (it is George, hello! Not the BIGGEST selection - although it beats G-town by far!); rationale - we're entering summer in the UK when we fly over. So if you're walking through the Londonium and happen across two lost looking SA girls wearing sunglasses and gloves, you've found us.

It's Uncle Charlie's 23rd birthday on the 21st. My best friend in the whole world, this man is. He's not the blogging type. He told me he thinks I'm his sister. I almost cried. We're getting so old now.
My actual sibling is coming home with family in tow this February. I will be home for Hugo's first birthday.
Ian lands on the 14th, and plans are that he come to Knysna for a bit. After the year he's had, he deserves a little beach time and oysters.

So much to look forward to!

Gotta watch the cashflow.

Today is a big day.

First off, he blogged again. That's pretty cool.

Have just returned from my first trip to the gynae. Not exactly sure what I expected. Not exactly sure what I intend to write about it, considering the low number of gals reading the rockit. I was pleasantly surprised in some aspects (it was calm, I didn't freak out, he was very soothing and matter-of-fact) and a bit let down in other aspects (no enormous silver stirrups, some actual discernable pain - which is always coated with "now, you might have some discomfort"). I guess the first time you have it done they go the whole hog.

So, somewhat painful first ever visit to the gynae - check.

Next up, I fetch Laurika. Laurika is new to me, thus new to you too, I imagine; this girl is my double in many ways. She loves Ferrari, doesn't eat onions (especially not in potato salad) and is also applying for a 2 year working holidaymaker visa to the UK. Her boyf is there. She laughs loudly and inappropriately. She likes to break it off in Zanzibar with Charlie.
So maybe she's not my exact twin, but she makes for good UK planning company.

Fetch fun chicken for 45-min long road trip - check.

Finally, it's off to George. I am going to apply for my UK visa TODAY.

Take enormous step towards entire future - hell yeah.

Then, it's off to shop for big tortoiseshell sunnies and discuss the future with the Michael-loving Onion-hating girl.

And in other news...

Don't bother seeing Shark Tale. Only one excellent part to movie, and only one outstanding actor (nxobviously de Niro). The rest is blah.

Am actually going to sell Sparky. Polished her for the first time this weekend. Consequently, have one weak arm and one ripped one.

Tootles!

I guess they're right when they say that when things are going too well, you can expect something bad to happen, just to equal it out. When that hits, it's no fun. I'm not really going into it now, but let's just say that I'm going to be making lots and lots of lemonade.

Otherwise, the work is actually okay, the bank (which does seem to be the main theme on this blog of late) is pretty fun when it gets quiet, as I am left talking to my co-workers about the lives they have developed while I've been 'op universiteit'. Husbands, wives, fathers, mothers, homeowners they now are, which only leaves me to ponder the real worth of sitting reading books for 4 years *sigh*

I am rather worried about my closest buddy here in Knysna - today began with a rather sullen phonecall from him followed by a similarly sullen visit (with accompanying beer) and then followed by an even more sullen chill with Ryler (back for a few days to visit) and Putter (currently out on the yacht catching ac with his f-buddy)... all in all, a little much to bear from the man known for his chirps and overall fun-ness. As is, I find myself counting down the minutes until my return to ze Oysterrrr Catcherrr to hook him up with some g's to get wasted on. Wondering aloud if his philosophy of "my answers are somewhere at the bottom of one of these puppies" *tap tap tap on an empty Amstel* does nothing to soothe the situation, so I guess the best way I can help him right now is to fund his attempt to numb himself and be by the phone when he's ready to talk.

Such is life, mon ami, when you live and work like a dog in a place where all you hear is fat German tourists telling you how wunderbaarrr the town really is.

The funds are being closely watched for the UK trip and, as such, the purchase of Vernon God Little might have to be postponed in favour of those big sunnies I want from Woolies when I travel to George (on the 17th) to apply for my visa at the OVC (thanks Dame). The timing is cutting it close, but should my visa be granted by 5 and a half weeks I should be ready to leave very early in March. Onward!

These days my life seems to be ruled by frustration. I say this as I type here at home, because whenever I get to an internet connection to blog, everything that I’ve thought about writing slips away from my mind. I love writing, and love language, but I feel incredibly frustrated at how inarticulate I’ve been lately. It seems to come in cycles, this block; I seem to have a week, every so often, when I can actually voice my thoughts, but damn, those weeks have been so scarce it actually really does frighten me.

I’m writing right now, and at this moment everything I say is tinged with the fear that it’s just not going to come out right. Even now, I want to type out how I’ve just sat here for the last two minutes, wondering whether I’m phrasing this sentiment correctly (is that the right word, sentiment? Should I even include this little self-doubt parenthesis break?)

Damn, a young Damon Albarn on MTV. I always thought Blur would win that war. Nothing cuter than a loser with a British accent.

Isn’t it strange how songs always seem to talk about the same subjects, rehashed over and over? Are there really only about 10 themes in the world that people identify with? Does society tell us which themes are acceptable to think about?
I read the other day about a guy who is a pedophile, and how frustrating his life is, because the people that turn him on are little boys – and he is angry with himself because he can’t control it. By satisfying his sexual needs, he would permanently ruin some child’s life. I can’t even imagine frustration like that. To hate yourself and your desires so much. To never want to hurt a child, but to be turned on by something so wrong. I don’t agree with the sexual abuse of a child, don’t get me wrong – I’m just thankful to be turned on by what it is okay to be turned on by.

Okay, so something a little more surface, hmmm? The bank. Working at the bank. I don’t think that writing about it in the way I have violates the security contract I’ve signed, but I think I should probably be careful about what I write, especially to do with the whole fraud episode. I’ve been given a little more responsibility at the bank, to do with drawing enquiries in the mornings before the bank opens, just admin stuff that has to be done. I feel pretty happy that they still trust me there. The teller controller really pushed to get me back there this vac, they were so low on staff but with affirmative action, it was unlikely that they would hire any frontline staff that weren’t black, they were pretty upfront about that. Its okay by me, almost all the managerial staff are white, which I think is pretty messed up, but they were really desperate for staff with experience that they pushed and pushed and finally were told that I could work there. When I signed my employment contract I read the attached email correspondence and the controller mentioned how she knew that my work ethic was good – a bit of a confidence booster right there.

Pretty much the most amazing development towards the whole UK thing (you know, my LIFE?) is that for my graduation/Christmas present, my folks have told me that they will give me my return ticket to London. I feel pretty humbled by it, considering everything they’ve done for me, with University and all, it hasn’t been cheap at all. It kind of negates the whole ‘my thing’-ness of the trip, I had planned to pay for everything by selling Sparky, but I’m not idiot enough to turn something so amazing down, and it would be SUCH an insult to the parentals! I'm uber grateful.

And yes, to be perfectly honest (which I am here, something that makes me more than a little jealous of the setup over here), the frustration does lend itself to other areas of life... shall we say, it's "been a while".

Ten minute think.

What did I just say?
Oh yes. The impending action will be most welcome. Oh, and by impending, I mean MARCH. *sob*

Ah yes, New Years. Characterised by much shooting o' the shit with Charles and his buddies, and ending with a Superhuman Charlie recognising that I should be taken home - I owe the man many a life-saving.

May '05 be as life-altering for you as it promises to be for me. Ciao bella!