Valentine's day

Dear diary

I guess I have been pondering on the amount of times I have loved deeply. I probably should start with my "first" love which in retrospect could have been just an innocent teenage love affair with my best friend. We didn't talk deeper than music and sing together. Then, at 13, that was more than enough. That's all I needed and she gave me so much more, an extra piece of chicken when we were in the dining hall, that extra hug.

When I really think of it, I really am combing for my best friend because that's who I would want to share my life with. The girl who understands my need for intimacy without thinking its needy, one who gets that time together is a way to feed my old soul. Who gets my artistic quirks which I assume can be rather annoying. A cuddler - I don't know how to stress that point! Its a need! My cuddle addiction is so bad that my profile on the dating site starts with "Hi, I'm Joan and I'm a cuddler" !

I am a hopeless romantic and love to love hard and mostly ready to fall hard. I'm not willing to go through the new age motions of fuck buddies and like relationships. Its tricky looking for a best friend instead of love. Shouldn't it be the opposite? No point now, thanks to you TP for that standard you set.

I remember my first Valentine's, she got me a perfume with a rose. Creamed my little heart into a puddle! I don't believe in Valentine's day,not really, but since everyone is on being romantic that day I didn't want her to feel left out so I wrote her a song. *insert eye roll here* . I even sang it to her on the piano.

Now, almost 30, I barely have the guts to say hello to a woman. I smile, look a little - well cause I'm too cool I don't want to seem like I'm staring lol. For this Valentine's, I guess I caught a break, I won't need to do anything since you - whoever you are - are still being all cryptic and hiding from me!

But I won't be too much of a party pooper. For all you couples out there, even if you are like me and don't believe in the day, buy her chocolate, watch that game with him. Romance is not for one day, definitely not, but it just is good to recognise that someone out there is like us, made a day to celebrate love and romance. Maybe for those that have less expressive partners, its a great idea to have a day you can look forward to.

Love is meant to be celebrated, today, tomorrow - the 14th of February. Doesn't matter really, as long as when you are in love, you Love the best way you know how.

Happy Valentine's Day

Killing Yourself to Live

Dear Diary

I thought i would be able to introduce my thoughts on this book but i guess not quite yet. I'll leave you to ponder this for now.


“We all have the potential to fall in love a thousand times in our lifetime. It's easy. The first girl I ever loved was someone I knew in sixth grade. Her name was Missy; we talked about horses. The last girl I love will be someone I haven't even met yet, probably. They all count. But there are certain people you love who do something else; they define how you classify what love is supposed to feel like. These are the most important people in your life, and you’ll meet maybe four or five of these people over the span of 80 years. But there’s still one more tier to all this; there is always one person you love who becomes that definition. It usually happens retrospectively, but it happens eventually. This is the person who unknowingly sets the template for what you will always love about other people, even if some of these loveable qualities are self-destructive and unreasonable. The person who defines your understanding of love is not inherently different than anyone else, and they’re often just the person you happen to meet the first time you really, really, want to love someone. But that person still wins. They win, and you lose. Because for the rest of your life, they will control how you feel about everyone else.” 
― Chuck Klosterman, Killing Yourself to Live: 85% of a True Story

Dear Diary

So i know i haven't written in a while, i think i needed the time to become undone. I spent most of it trying to work on the book. Yep, i am writing a book - or supposed to be.

Anyway, one early evening not so long ago, i sat with...well - lets just call her a friend - Lady. We were in some sort of intoxicated state that made us feel real intelligent and world class philosophers of sorts. We decided the world order had to be unraveled, and pin-point the actual reason that we live. Bear with me here and try keep up with this mouthful as i try to decipher it.

Lets begin on the soul and the theory that souls do not in fact die, they sort of move in a constant circular motion (reincarnation). However, for the soul to "rest" there then has to be a state of shall i say euphoria that will then put the soul in an enlightened state, which needn't need the soul to keep 'reincarnating'.

This somewhat connected to yin&yang, the perfect state of balance. Lady came up with an ideology that yin&yang are two souls, that meet and create a balance. I echoed with the Christian story of Noah & the arc in which the animals were always paired in 2s for balance, for the yin&yang purpose.

Balance = the state of paired souls = soulmates. 

The correct pairing of souls would then bring the living state of euphoria - which is that thing called True-Love. That boiled the whole discovery to one truth: The real reason for living is to love wholly. Not to just love anyone, but that ONE.

That, at the time, was cause for high-fives, mic-drops, happy-dances and cocky-nods between the two of us. We'd just unravelled God's plan. We were thinking "We know what you're up to". We had completely discovered the reason we came to be. Just a giant science project testing the ability of True Love's power of attraction within all and sundry living souls on earth.

Since this great new discovery of life's purpose, i have been acutely aware of my aloneness. Then the question of why i have always thought of myself as the last of my kind was somewhat answered. Can I say I know the reason my soul has been on earth for the last, I don't know, 100 years maybe?  I discovered that i am incapable of taking relationships lightly. Even my attraction to women seems pretty complicated to the normal human. I'm attracted to a person from the inside out. The more real, grounded, intelligent, kind, warm, compassionate, etc. they are - the sexier they become. So there goes my aspired one-nighters and casual relationships. I'm totally screwed it seems.

The next problem is this extreme introverted state i fall into when i am single. I just cannot seem to sum up the same interest to socialise as the normal human when i am unpaired. I prefer reading a book, working on my tattoos, having a glass of wine on the balcony watching the sunset. Unlike everyone else, I spend more time within myself instead of out there on the streets like everyone else yelling "My One!" so maybe she can maybe hurry the fuck up and we live happily ever after already!

So my journey to euphoria is still on. It would be a load of bollocks to say that my awareness makes it easy for an introverted queen like me, but perhaps if you'd wish me luck?


Joan

Strangers' Lives

There’s something fascinating about public transport. Not to say the public transport is perfect, certainly not in the streets of Windhoek, the taxis are the most road rage initiating machines. I often find myself screaming the most ungodly things in foreign languages, as if. I think its mostly to make a point to myself than to the driver of the other vehicle – well considering the windows are most often than not closed and the radio is probably playing one of my songs when I am behind the wheel.

There’s a glimpse into a stranger’s life with every 20-minute ride I endure to and from work in public transport. The older woman who sat in front of my seat this morning as I rode to work is definitely a highlight. I watched her from the side mirrors as she made her way to, I’d guess work at 7am. Maybe from work, I couldn’t be sure. She wore a blue tracksuit hugging her body and on top of her well saturated weave which looked like it was flashed down an oil pipe was a read woolen hat that sat clumsily to accompany her seemingly satisfied face.

She dug into something on her lap then she quickly stuffed it into her mouth, chewing while she glanced at the sites outside of her window. An early mind blowing greasy delicious no good for nothing breakfast. That is the only way I would explain her reaction to the food she ate. There is only two things that could make a grown woman stuff the whole length of her fingers in their mouth and that either something to do with for play or those little foods that they tell us again and again are mind blowing greasy delicious no good for nothing foods.

I suppressed a giggle so as to not appear rude when I realized the song playing in my head phones was Silk’s Freak me. I have to say it’s a little freaky when you are listening to a sexual song while someone literally ran her fingers in her mouth living them all wet. I shuddered at the inappropriate thought.

Another highlight, a few weeks back, I had another encounter with a man. I had a long day at work and I had a book I was reading that had reached its peak. I couldn’t wait to get home to read so I whipped it out and found my page quickly then transported into the story. Made sure my characters look returned to me then saturated myself in the word. The man who sat beside me started leaning into me – in my personal space might I add – and he started reading with me. I didn’t know weather to nudge him back to his side of his seat or just close my really good book until I get home. While I was contemplating my options he turned to me, his breathe making it to my face. I suppressed a gag.

“What did Peter do?” He asked

Shocked I looked at him as if he were a rare species. How dare he ask about Peter!? He was my character in MY book! I was possessive it seemed and hated sharing my characters with strangers. He had no idea how pissed and annoyed he made me. I brushed him off with a simple “it’s a long story” and thanked god as the taxi pulled at my stop.

I didn’t appreciate it then, maybe I still wouldn’t enjoy either meetings again but those little things I would be able to talk about with my grand kids at one point or another that made 2016 quite a year.

We cant all be the same, thank goodness, but is that not what make life worth living?

Conversations Within

'Hello Joan, I'm glad you could make it into therapy today'

I smiled as I entered the room, looking around to the familiar surroundings. The white walls, a green plant in the corner of the office, the fish bowl with no fish sitting right beside it. It was like an added irony to the therapy room. There was a painting above the sofa, I looked at it as if in a trance, I still couldn't make out what it was. I frowned at my continued frustration to decipher it.

I figured it had to be a happy piece, only because of the reds and oranges that were splattered around the canvas. What was it with therapists and their rooms? The need to make everything clean, spotless. I supposed it was some doctor code.

'would you like to sit?' She said snapping me back to reality. I looked at her and nodded then sat on the couch facing her. I looked at my therapist, her face was framed by her large reading glasses. She tried to smile to reassure me. She didn't need to, her eyes were gentle. She had that face.

'So how was your day today?' She asked kindly. Small talk was always the beginning of the session. I was accustomed to it. I had a pre-prepared answer.

'It was okay,' I said simply then shrugged. Was there more to say? What was I doing in this place? Am I traumatized? Depressed? In need of someone to talk to? Maybe it was because she had that face. I smiled to myself at my sense of humor.

'Just okay? She looked deep into my eyes. I shrugged again not wanting to repeat myself. She understood and nodded. She looked down at the pad on her lap before she scribbled a note quickly. Looking up to me she tilted her head and took a deep breathe. Was she frustrated with me? My lack of trying.

'It was another day Doc, nothing eventful I'm afraid.' I added before she thought of another question to throw across the room to me. I was aware of her ability to question me to get to the "problem within". What if I didn't have a problem and my day was just a day? What if my visits were just for conversation?

'Have you gone out lately?' She asked trying to lighten the subject.

'Well, I go out everyday. I have a job you know.' I snapped back quickly with a smirk. I was pleased with myself for outsmarting the doctor in the room.

'I mean somewhere else other than work.' she said gently not taking offence to my my smartass nature. I looked at her, at that face.

'No, Not really' I replied and let my eyes wonder around the room. The desk she placed in the corner had a glass top and white horn like leg support. Now that was a masterpiece unlike the art on the wall. I decided her taste was weird but then again no "normal" person would opt to listen to crazy ramblings for a living. I slowly peeled my eyes from the desk and back to her. She had been watching me. I looked at her questioning. I wondered what she thought of me. I was pretty sure I wasn't the weirdest person she saw today. The thought made me feel better about myself.

'Why?'she asked again in her friendly therapy voice

'because-' I stopped myself. I didn't have an answer really except the very ridiculous reason that I knew would probably make her roll the eyes within her eyes. I shook my head at the thought, she was the doctor, a therapist for that matter. Weird wasn't really something I needed to worry about. I was sure she's heard it all. '...because I'm bored with people.' I finished my sentence slowly, looking at her in search for a reaction, any reaction would have worked.

'What do you mean?' I took a deep breathe and looked at her poker face. Should I really answer the question? What would answering that do for me other than maybe take me to the top of her weirdo list. I wondered what others talked about here. Suicides? Trauma? I decided this was just conversation and for the first time since we started, I decided she deserved my truth.

'Well,' I shifted in my seat and leaned forward, resting my elbows on my thighs. 'I'm bored of people. they do the same things over and over again. They wake up, shower, work, go out, at the end of the day to "socialise"', I said it with emphasis in a deeper voice, I paused as i gathered my thoughts before continuing, ' after that they go home, fuck and then sleep mostly with strangers or people they don't want to take time to know then wait for the next day to do the same thing over again.' I took another breathe shaking my head. 'I cannot do that, I am not like the normal person. I wake up, shower and work- sure, but after that I run home and lock my door and hide my head and thoughts behind a book.'

'Why would you think that is not normal?'

'Well that one is easy!' I said more to myself, 'I don't want to go out. I try, believe me I do. I make plans, Hell, I even come up with suggestions of something I could do with people -friends. When I get home though, I start pacing in a panic wondering what in the world I was thinking suggesting something I didn't want to do!? I get  a small panic attack. The idea of sitting there, laughing, cracking the jokes, making the people around me smile, holding conversations-' I let out a nervous laugh.

'Then why do you do it?' She asked, again with the therapy voice. 'Why do you make suggestions?'

'Because...' I couldn't think of a reason really. I searched my brain for the reason behind it. 'Maybe I hate the idea of letting people down, or maybe I hate being a party pooper, maybe to fulfill my predestined task to make everyone around me smile?'

'Do you think that is why you were born into the earth?' She leaned forward. I looked at her then shrugged

'Do you?' I returned the question.

'I don't know,' she said honestly, 'How would i know when I am YOU?'

Crying in bathrooms

There are two kinds of people. The ones who cry with the occasion, and the ones like me. The occasions come, a funeral, heartbreak, what ever it is that warrants the emotion of tears from us and instead we rise to get things done. Tears are suppressed and the world turns from the occasion to the normal without having given the occasion the tears it deserved.

I'm not strong, I act strong. I put my mind to work instead of facing the moment, the feeling or reacting to what would be considered an occasion for tears. Months even years later, while I sit alone watching a show or I bump my toe, the rivers start running. I do not cry, I wallow in endless streams of tears filled with confusion of which moment they fall for.

Its ironic, crying in bathrooms when I was younger was my way of acting strong,. I thought it was okay being alone to cry away the pain, the fear, the emotions I felt. Now, I cry. Not in bathrooms but still on my own.

Its frustrating. When I cry I always wonder the occasion it belongs, I try to cross it out but I can barely identify what it is that I would be crying for. Is it the pain of moaning my mother while she was alive rotting inside from cancer? Is it the fear of not living to my full potential? Is it the heartbreaks I do so well with in the time? I never know, I just cry though, and the saddest thing? I barely feel relieved. Instead I wipe the tears away, say a joke to myself and attempt a giggle.

Its all I've known to do. Perhaps its working, perhaps that's how I heal in a slow haphazard manner that continues over the years. I don't really know but for today when the tears burnt my eyelids before sliding down my cheeks, I let them and I tried not to identify them. It would not make a difference except frustrate me, for in my own way, I feel I constantly fail my heart for not being precise with when I water my cheeks. It is a relief though that i could shut off the jungle in my mind and for that second not be in control. Its a little reminder that I AM still human

The Curse of the Spirit Animal

So it seems I have been cursed by one of the many spirit animals I am. After many heavy insomniac nights, I have tried to come to terms with the simple fact that I am not a very good sleeper- for a Gemini-EarthDragon.

I went further to research my spirit animal. Which will be a bonus for my already hereditary African totem - the great black and white - the zebra.

My first search was many months ago, a sleepless night that got me wondering if I had perhaps inherited some animal instinct which kept me up most of my nights. I was paired with the owl. It all clicked and made sense then but not as much sense as it makes now.

The past week and few days have been nothing but hell for me. Namibia has become so unforgiving. The heat startles the country by seven in the morning, like the drunk uncle at the Christmas party who gets his kick by telling the children horror stories about Santa! The day starts to become murky and everything is labored. Tans are on special this time of year it seems, it took less than an hour to get my tan upgraded to Navy blue!

The alcohol business is booming, the addiction seemingly predestined to anyone who lives in this BBQ. The first beer in this holiday season is on average around 9am and a beer has to be, without fail, drunk within 5minutes unless of course, you are the one for beer tea!

Given this ungodly situation, I keep the days to myself, alone, mumbling away cursing the heat. If I were in the street I'd be the sister to the woman who wears the paper bag on her head pulling a trolley full of metallic abstract works of art! I struggle through the heat wishing to be nothing more than a squid or jellyfish. It crosses my mind that maybe jellyfish are sick and tired of being in the water and perhaps they float around cursing King Triton.

Anyway, as the long agonizing desert day draws to a close,  the sun setting in such a deliberate speed - only around 8pm, I slowly begin to find some of my sanity. I mumble less, think more and start a never ending battle with the African Blood suckers - the mosquitoes!

In an act of terrorism, I empty a bottle of bug spray on the thin sons of B!*%#'s and pray God has a mosquito hell.

I spend good time just trying to breathe. In the stillness of the young night i stand out looking into the darkening skies and wonder why the wind has been given a vacation. The timing of course is perfect! Not! I slowly collect some of my thoughts and jot them down in an unusual organised fashion which is a complete contradiction of my unorganized simplicity. I fight with words and thoughts and have never ending conversations with myself as the clock ticks away.

By midnight I am convinced I am nothing like the majestic owl that sits in the night hooting into the echoes of silence. Big bald eyes and a 270° spin on its head, I barely meet the wise creature's hobby characteristics.

I decided it was time for a second and third opinion on my so called spirit animal. It couldn't have made more sense when I was done. My spirit self was full of too much baggage hence the crazy act. It turns out I'm a whale, a spider and wolverine! No biggie, that makes me a
Gemini-EarthDragon-OwlEbra-WolvWhalPider.

That sounds like a medical condition… that makes sense!