With wellies to kill…

A woman can only take so much.

A month ago I got bitten by what seemed like a flea for three nights in a row and my apartment, as the rains came, seemed to grow mould everywhere over night. I freaked out, moved out, cleaned all my things, sprayed my car, handed all my clothes in to be washed and so on. Please note this was after me having a cold, mumps, the flu and a urinary tract infection, whilst working as a writer, launching a business, helping out at Little Angels and with the twins. I was about to self-combust when this happened. But I’m zen. Always. So f*ing zen. (<- sarcasm)

Then I got bit again. To the point of going insane for a few nights. I found one flipping flea that seemed to have followed me and my landlord sprayed the floor whilst I managed to catch the flea (and I sprayed some more and poured Diatomaceous Earth on everything in sight). I slept well for a few nights.

Then I got bit again, now by something else, as the bites are different. Either midgets (I realized there’s a pond here inside in the entryway) or a bedbug. I’m taking precautions against all and anything.

I don’t know if I’m cursed, or just have great blood? When I went to Scotland a few years ago my friends got 20 bites each. I got 200.

I hate poisons, but after the past few weeks I’m prepared to haul any poison I can get my hands on, on anything I see. I’m sure I’m gonna have a good laugh about this in years to come, but right now I’m sleep depraved and uh, on a mission to kill…just give me some stilettos and a “killing all critters” gun… A Catwoman suit, completely bite proof and with sex appeal (to cover up all current scars) would be much appreciated too. (As opposed to tights, thermal underwear, a fleece, a long skirt and (pink) wellies that currently tend to work as body armor. I did say I’m always sexy, didn’t I? It’s Welliewoman…without an umbrella to kill.)

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Image source: https://www.pinterest.com/pin/507780926713532214/ 

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Filed under bed bugs, fleas, Humor, Life, midgets, mosquitoes, Sarcasm

The one thing you really must know about happiness…

Today I finally got round to doing what I said I was going to do ages ago – give Tony a piece of jewelry I inherited from my mom. My mom died from liver cancer when I was six. Tony was diagnosed with lung cancer last year and have two kids who are around the same age I was when I lost mom and whom I consider my nieces pretty much as their mother works for Little Angels. I swore I’d give him a piece of jewelry because I never wear it and I’d much rather it paid for some food and natural treatment for him. I think mom would have liked that. Only when he saw it he immediately told me he had a chain for it and would put it on that. He’d never sell it he said. And that somehow shows just the kind of man he is – he cares. To him that piece of jewelry meant something. He also works hard and he’s selfless, even when he’s in dire pain.

I hope I will be able to start a campaign where I can encourage others to get rid of the jewelry they never wear and give the proceeds to someone like Tony and his family who work tirelessly for others (his partner works for Little Angels for $50 a month when she doesn’t look after Tony), even when they live in a shack, battle poverty, pain and cancer. Jewelry that has no meaning attached to it is a thing. A person is a person. If you lose a piece of jewelry it’s just a thing. If you lose a person you lose something truly valuable.

And that’s one thing we can all learn about happiness – money make us comfortable, as do things, but beyond that what we truly need is amazing people in our life. The ones that change our life with their very presence. The ones that we don’t want to lose.

I will be making a video for Tony shortly if he wants me to and pop it on Indiegogo, because God knows we could do with having him around for a bit longer. #PayItForward

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Filed under Beating Cancer, Charity, Following Your Heart, Friendship, Inspirational, kindness, Life in the Township, Motivation

Oh baby, oh baby you’re one sexy car…

If men were like cars I’d be married to an Audi and have a love affair with a Tesla, or the other way around. If cities were men I’d be married to the City of Angels and have a love affair with Paris. The problem with men? They are neither cars, nor cities. The problem with my car? It’s corrupted.

I bought a car when I wasn’t planning to in a country where automatic cars are as rare as diamonds. Finding something in my price category was difficult three years ago. But there were several Audis as Audi had more automatic cars, or so it seemed. I was sorely tempted by the Audis because low and behold, there comes my favorite car. I was going to be smart about it though. I was going to buy a car that didn’t cost the Earth to fix if it needed fixing. And finally I found a Hyundai Sonata, metallic blue and without a single scratch, which hadn’t run many miles. It was nicknamed Monty, like I sometimes am too. And it was owned by a Brit and a Swede, so I felt comfortable buying it. Especially as it wasn’t one of those little white cars they’re so fond of here and that I can’t stand. The design lacks any kind of oumph. At least from behind this one looked like a Jaguar.

It turned out there was one wire in the car that wasn’t wired right. So sometimes the car didn’t start. It took them months to find the bloody wire. Well, it took them a day at Hyundai, but I tried another electrician first. At Hyundai they also established that the gearbox needed reconditioning. It had been reconditioned the year before, but low and behold it was a badly done job and the warranty had expired.

I could have bought a much more expensive car had I taken into account the reconditioning of the gearbox. Man I could have had a nice car.

Of course, the unscratched car was scratched the first day when I drove into a gate. I’ve never driven into anything before, but something has to be the first. Then someone else drove into it. In the township where it has been parked a lot the kids scratched it. And there are several scratches I have no idea how they got there. Probably others ramming it. Then I lent it to a friend when traveling twice – the first time the booth got covered in white paint, the second someone rammed it in the back and it was stitched together with electric tape as she couldn’t pay for my insurance to repair it and kept putting it off till I left the country again and came back to a still stitched together car.

I lent it to people because I felt as a traveler that’s what others have done for me – I’ve had other people’s homes and cars; I’ve always been looked after. And I care for traveling karma and I believe in the kindness of strangers. Or as it says at Shakespeare & Co.: Strangers are angels in disguise. Or something to that effect. It does not mention the cats with fleas that also live there and the grumpy old man that used to own the place. Mind you – he let me film there.

Currently I believe there’s something wrong with the immobilizer – the car sometimes starts straight away, sometimes it takes ten or more tries. It always starts, but people look at you funny if it’s having a tantrum.

Then this morning the darling car sounded like there was an explosion in it when I started it. At first I thought it was my imagination. Then it happened again. Then as I switched it off the third time I realized the speakers were still on even if the radio was off. And when you start the car they explode with a boom. So now I have an exploding car too. And I can’t find the bloody button to turn off the speakers.

The good thing about my car? I have no worries parking it in the township and coming back to see kids having made patterns in dust and sand on it.

The issue? I could have been driving an Audi. I could have been married. Instead when I drive around in Beverly Hills I’m prone to knock down palm trees (and pedestrians) when staring at Audis, Teslas and hot dudes. It’s actually a problem. I’ve been close to driving into people and things a few times. Do you know how hot the men in LA are? It’s a hazard on the roads. And the cars…oh baby, the cars. Midnight blue sports cars… Swoon.

But it’s OK. Soon I’m gonna marry my Hollywood Hills and my Audi. Just you wait. I made a bet with Liezl this’d be our car for 2017, she says 2016. We’ll see who wins the bet.

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A look inside my naked soul…

You cannot escape dreams. Like a soft whisper they will hover over the horizon as you open your eyes. In that state in between dreaming and awake you can sense them there, just waiting for you. Sometimes you hear their whispers, sometimes you do your best to ignore them. You hit your alarm clock with full force. You drag your heavy limbs out of bed, still half paralyzed by sleep. You force yourself awake. But if you quiet and if you listen, your dreams are there. Right there for you to see.

Sometimes it’s not your dreams you listen to though, but rather your fears. It’s the morning chill you feel as you shiver in your bed. It’s the cold hand of fear that’s throttling you. Scaring you. Making you feel less than you are. The idea of failure haunting you in your dreams.

But other nights…other nights you dream of wonderful things. You remember a sensation of love. A soft, soft longing in your heart to go to where you belong. To the home. The home of your soul. To all that you love.

And sometimes you wake up from one such dream. Maybe you don’t remember it at first. But then, as daybreak has come and gone and you are doing something pointless, like cleaning, you remember. A smile crosses your lips. You remember. Remember the voice that spoke to you at night.

Then fear holds you tight. Tells you it was just a dream. And the face you gave the dream wasn’t even real. But the feeling…oh that feeling…

So you let it go. You long for it, but think it’s not for you. Until you sit down and you dream.  And you start to write. And suddenly you covered your page with your dream. And then you realized the dream is actually real.

I’ve had a hellish week. I realized the mold in my old flat was getting out of hand – I couldn’t stand being there anymore. It seemed to come over night and cover it all – winter and something wrong with the ventilation. Then I got bitten by a flea. And if there is one thing I hate it’s insects I cannot see. So I left for an AirBnB as I could no longer relax and rather than staying at an AirBnB place whilst sorting out the fleas and the mold I plain decided to move. And I found a place.

But when I stood there last Saturday, not knowing where to go only knowing I wasn’t going to stay I felt helpless. I’ve so loved being back in here in Cape Town with the kids. I help my fabulous five with reading every day, some days tennis too, and I have the twins a few times a week staying with me. But I got a cold, followed by mumps, followed by the flu. Winter is cold indoors in Africa and I blamed myself for not coping with it well. And just as I was about to relax, sit down and write to earn money again, I had to move. I was at my wits end. But I got through it. As I usually do. Finally calmed down Friday night as the new place took shape…to wake up at 3am with a urinary tract infection. I had to stay up all night. I did some things I had to do in the middle of the night and managed to control my pain, but boy was I tired.

And as I’ve struggled with setbacks I’ve struggled with my sense of pride. My sense of calm. When I’m grounded I’m really friggin grounded, but I have so longed for financial stability and simply doing what I love in a place I love and having no place to call home is bogging me. To be calm – to wake up with enough money in my pocket even after five weeks of being sick. And to know I wake up to doing what I love and only what I love.

Of course my designer for Magique went and broke his arm, I had to make a surprise visit to the police station to pick up a kid, another kid got molested, and so on and so forth. But I’ve been happy because I have great clients for writing, I’ve got a business up and running…well in progress, I’m back with the kids and things are happening at Little Angels. So I’m very happy.

Yet this sense of failure has haunted me. It tends to when you need to work and get sick and poor instead. I was just tired man. Scared another thing would happen. But I kept turning my mind to how blessed I am. To have the kids, Little Angels, the business, Los Angeles…

Then today I woke up at 1am from my urinary tract infection and decided it was time to take the antibiotics I’d been prescribed (I was trying to avoid it) and I had this fear again. Fear that bad things would keep happening and sink me. I mean you need a home and health to be able to work. To earn the money you can earn as you have such fab clients. But I turned it around. Started seeing the blessings of living my passions.

Finally I could sleep again and woke up with a start in the morning as my girl was awakening. One tends to wake up with a start when kids are ready to get up. I rolled out of bed to start the day.

Not until lunch did I remember what I dreamt. And I smiled. I dreamt of a boy who brought me and my best friend together so long ago. A dancer. Because of whom we started to dance. We were in love. As one is when one is fourteen. One sees a dancer who also lost his mom and one thinks one has a lot in common and fall in love. So did my best friend, only she fell much harder than me.

I suggested we start to dance as we both loved a dancer. So we did. And we fell in love. With the dance. With our friendship. That boy gave me a new career path (I was planning to become a doctor) and my best friend. And we danced, we wrote a musical, we ended up in drama school in London, we went to LA to UCLA… That boy gave me my life.

I forgot him pretty soon in the sense that I was never much into him. He was a symbol. Something I longed for – kindness and someone who could understand loss and art. The next year I fell in love for real for the first time. Boy, now that hurt. My Romeo wasn’t very Romeo. He was so not Romeo.

I’ve been thinking about this project to do with the youth. A Romeo and Juliet project. Love education. Gang education. And I’ve been debating how to do it. How Magique will support Little Angels. Then, after I’d dropped off the kids I sat down to start work. Instead I wrote the first scene of a new musical based on Romeo and Juliet. And so my project was truly born.

Maybe because of a dream of a dancer whom I shared the stage with long ago. A kind dancer. A very kind dancer.

I always wanted to do musicals. I wanted to work with underprivileged kids. I wanted to move to Africa. I wanted to adopt kids. I wanted to conquer America. I wanted to do what Branson and Scorsese did. And here I am. Sure I have a granny flat. I’m broke as broke can be. But I have everything else. Just like I said I would. People said it was impossible.

Dream, just a dream.

It’s time for a musical. And curtain call.

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Image source: https://www.pinterest.com/pin/507780926712913671/ 

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Filed under Africa, Dancing, dreams, Inspiration, journey of the heart

Attraction – you sexy beast…

The connections we have with different people are magical; it’s like they stir different parts of our soul to make us experience different parts of ourself. And sometimes, in some wonderful cases, they make us feel like they see straight into our soul and simply understand us. Just as we are. No explanations needed. And various meetings make up the tapestry of our lives, leading us from one event to the next so that our tale unfolds. Then suddenly we look back and we see just how one meeting changed the course of our life. But maybe that one meeting was already in our heart; already waiting to happen as we were ready to walk a certain path. People are like doors, constantly opening us to new experiences. And sometimes they simply open the door to our own soul so that we get a little bit of a better glimpse of who we truly are, or make us feel like we are not alone because they, too, see the world the way we do.

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Image source: https://www.pinterest.com/pin/507780926712913973/ 

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Filed under Friendship, soul brothers, soul mates, soul sisters, twin flames

Rolling naked in the morning dew…

So it’s Midsummer Night’s Eve. It’s time to put seven flowers under your pillow and dream of love. Roll naked in the morning dew for a love life filled with happiness. Last time I tried this (the flowers bit, unfortunately I was’t aware of the morning dew tradition at the time…) was in my teens and all that happened was that I dreamt of Jared Leto. Later, for some reason, I always saw him as a symbol for LA. I must have read some article about him living there in my teens. I have an image stuck in my head of him walking dogs on the beach. But I didn’t have any desire to go there – I wanted to live in New York. It was only one day when I returned from a trip to San Francisco and Hawaii to a very grimey London and my best friend stated she was moving to LA that I decided to go. Simply because Hawaii and San Fran had been a lot friendlier than London and I had met some people from LA on my trip that weren’t half bad. It had cured some of my prejudice against LA.

Funnily LA became the only city I wanted to marry; my heart stuck in the Hollywood Hills in Laurel Canyon. Co-incidentally Leto also wrote a song about the City of Angels and moved to the very spot where my heart belongs. Symbolic, don’t you think?

This morning I woke up and thought of Los Angeles – of finding a man I love as much as I love that city. Or maybe it’s not the love that brings me there. It’s the feeling of coming home. Because every health freak, eco-warrior, nature lover, entrepreneur and filmmaker seems to live in Los Angeles. I feel at home. Attached to the sun drenched hills.

As for love, I love many other places. I love Paris. I love the South of France. I love Cape Town. I love Swedish summer nights. And whilst I feel France is a part of me; a love story that will never go away and that shows up every time I pick up a pen to write and Cape Town is home of my heart’s work with Little Angels, I’ve never felt attached to the Earth the way I do in Los Angeles. I want to spend time in Cape Town and France and I feel at home in France, but when I set foot in Los Angeles I feel like I belong there. Like I’m at peace.

So maybe it’s not so strange that this morning I woke up after a dream about someone who lives in LA (because I walked by someone who looked like this person last night, most likely), although in my dream we were in Malmo. I woke up with the thought of marrying Los Angeles. Maybe one day I will.

Happy Midsummer y’all. Enjoy the white night.

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Midsummer night in my village in Sweden. 

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Filed under divination, home, Los Angeles, midsummer, Sweden, traditions

Don’t give up…

Even when you are at rock bottom there is always a turning of the page; a new leaf. Some situations seem hopeless, but few are.

That’s all.

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Image Source: https://www.pinterest.com/pin/507780926711637026/ 

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