Why I blog...

I use this blog as a kind of therapy. Sometimes I'm happy and want to share it, sometimes it's just a random thought and sometimes it's to deal with things in my past. After all a burden shared is a burden halved

Wednesday, February 16, 2011

Valentines Day

I don't normally do a 'diary' type of blog, you know the kind of one that chronologically records all of your events. Usually its just ramblings from my inner thoughts, but since Monday was valentines day I thought it fitting to share mine with you.

As this was our first valentines day together my boyfriend and I naturally wanted it to be special. By the way i abhor the word 'boyfriend' it sounds so juvinile and conjours up mental images of teenagers in high school. I much prefer something like partner in life and love, but that is quite a mouthful when it comes to introducing your fellow to people, but I digress. So back to Monday the 14th of february, which as fate would have it falls smack bam in the middle of the month when funds are usually low and momentum is waning. I had ordered a gift for him via kalahari.net (a first for me) What a pleasure using that site, just enter your details, choose your item and click, what could be easier. If I was planning on becoming a hermit this would definately be my medium of choice for shopping. Fortunately I am a people person, so no danger of that happening soon. Anyway as I was saying I ordered the gift at the end of January thinking two weeks for delivery and it should arrive in time for valentines day, but to my suprise (and a little shock) it arrived within 48 hours. So he didnt actually receive anything tangible from me on the actual day. Not to worry we love each other and still wanted to make it special. Well when I arrived home there was a brand new bedspread waiting for me (because the previous one that took us 4 months to find and agree upon came to a very ugly end, but that is a story for another day). On the bedspread were 9 little hand cut hearts with these words written on them: I love you Karen with all my heart love Scott (instant heartmelt). At the end of the heart trail was a gift wrapped box with a red ribbon on it, and inside was a gift set of my favorite perfume with a matching body lotion. This in itself was a wonderful surprise and I would have been happy there and then.

But you know what presents and surprises aside the very best part of the entire day, was when we went to look at a house, and came home full of hope and joy. We sat on the couch discussing possibilities for the future one in which we will share a life together and where it could take us. We were excited, elated, full of hope and most importantly of all in love! deeply completely and madly in love with each other.

I leave you with this beautiful poem I found by Frances Gay:

When you have a key, you need a lock in which the key will fit
when you have a lock, you need a door in which the lock will sit
when you have a door, you need a wall in which the door will stand
when you have four walls, you need a roof to make your house look grand
when you have your house just right for you, you can settle and never roam
but with all these things you need a mate, to make your house a home

Wednesday, February 9, 2011

Random Childhood Memories

Isn't it wierd the things you remember from your childhood? Why is it, that some things you remember, and some you dont? Like a dream. We dream, on average, every single night; some dreams you can't remember, but others are so vivid, you can't help but remember them in great detail. I often have childhood memories popping into my head from time to time. Why these particular memories, I don't know.

Like: A boy named Sasha Harris, who stabbed me in the thigh with a pencil (Yes- I remembered his full name) I still have the broken tip of his pencil stuck in my leg. This happened in grade two/standard four. Or an incident when I was ten, when I thought I was going to bleed to death, and cried all day. Because a two year old girl from Sunday school named Nicole (yes, I remember her name, too) pulled on my mole, and it bled. You see, my mom always told me, if I pulled it, I could bleed to death. So here's me: Crying for my impending death, as I watched it bleed all day.

Or the time when I learned to swim in Hermanus, at the age of seven. I was swimming in the sea with my cousin, when I stepped down, and the water level suddenly went over my head. I remember the feeling of almost drowning, and, in my panic, I jumped on my cousin's head, and pushed her under the water. That's when my aunt grabbed me, and said: Right. Today you will learn to swim. And by late afternoon, I could swim froggy style.

My best friend, at the time, when I was ten, Rene- I was sleeping over at her house, but I heard noises in the night, and we woke her dad up. He jumped out of bed, and went through the house in stealth mode, looking for an intruder. In his underpants. Turns out, it was just some branches in the wind, but the sight of my friend's father, with his skinny frame, in his "onnies", will haunt me forever.

One of my mom's early boyfriends taking me for a ride on his motorbike, to impress her.

Meeting my biological dad at the age of nine, for the first time. And realising how much I resembled him irritated his new wife.

Feeling smug, when I threatened a bunch of bullies who were teasing my cousins.

Having an argument with the local cafe owner's son. and being told to leave the shop.

Sleeping in my grandfather's VW combi in Bain's Kloof, because it poured with rain and our tent leaked.

Having a giant mural of Maya the Bee on my wall when I was seven, because that was the in thing to watch at the time.

Singing "Don't Cry for Me, Argentina" at the top of my voice, whenever it came on the radio- my mom bragging to all of her friends that I knew all of the words, and demanding impromptu performances. (Why do parents do that- myself included?)

I suppose, if I really sat down and thought about it, I could go on and on. But I digress- because the point of this blog entry is simply to point out the pure randomness of these thoughts, and how strange it is, that some just stick with you forever, and others, you simply forget, as time goes by. I suppose, that these thoughts will be with me forever, until, one day, I don't remember anything anymore.

What do you think your children's random memories will be, when they're grown up?

"To be in your child's thoughts and memories tomorrow, you have to be in their lives today".