A Short Story to Break the Monotony.

At first, life was nothing but the peaceful warm embrace of her sisters. For thirty years, they were inseparable, so alike as to be indistinguishable, never apart, as close as close could be. They never argued or fought or squabbled, like other sisters might. She could not imagine life beyond this warm embrace, could not imagine a life apart from them.

But then, all too soon and without warning, the day of her leaving came. She had no choice, it seemed. Fate had chosen this path for her, and like her sisters before her, she felt herself drawn out into the big, wide spaces of the world. Everything seemed bigger, vaster, echoing caverns, darkness, the vast unknown. She journeyed for what seemed an eternity before she found a place to rest, a place she hoped could be her home.

And for a time, it was peaceful there. Lonely, without her sisters, but the solitude had its own charms; the silence its own sweet music. She wrapped herself in thoughts of her sisters, and of the vast world around her, and of the future, and what it might hold.

She could not have imagined; not in her most vivid nightmares; what was to come. Suddenly, they were there; seemingly millions of them, their blind lust threatening to overwhelm her, invading her with their thrusting, prodding, biting. Never before had she felt such an agony, felt such uncaring maleness, such unending assault.

Abruptly, it ended. As swiftly as they had appeared, they were gone, leaving but one of their member; he the victor, she the prize. Forever joined, forever changed, they two had become something…other. She grew used to the idea, after a fashion, and consoled herself that the worst had happened, and perhaps her peace would return. Time passed, and she began to feel a certain sense of peace and wholeness. It was not to last.

A rending, a tearing, a ripping, an unholy fission of her very being. Torn in two, suffering an agony of confusion, she cried out at he unholy affliction, and wondered how much more torture she would have to endure. She turned, gasped, saw a mirror image of her very being. Warmth flooded through her, a quickening, recognition of some elusive truth. Around her were new sisters; but, no, not sisters, they were clones of herself. At first one, then three, then dozens, hundreds, millions, bound together.

A change was coming. Soon they would be born, as something new and strange and wonderful. But no matter what happened, she knew this- she would never be alone again.

I Definitely Wouldn't Wear Some Lameass Cape.

Image via memebon.jp

I think about things. All sorts of things. All the time. I have one major obsession which pleases me no end, which is time travel- namely, what would happen if Iwas plunked, say, in the 17th century. Or if someone from the 17th century was droppped of in modern-day Cape Town. I think that would be pretty mindblowing. For them, at least. And it would (you have to agree) be so totally awesome to be some sort of kick-ass, ass-kicking time-travelling operative, policing temporal rifts. Or something.

In anycase, that's a topic for another day. yesterday I was walking through the gardens, and I realised something...a little disconcerting. Something that rocked me to my very foundations, challenged everything I ever thought I knew or understood about myself, and the kind of person I am. It was epiphanic*.

I realised that if I had the power of invisibility**, I would be a criminal. Sorry mom, but I would totally bash that girl about the head and run away with her cute coat. I would raid shoe stores under the noses of the staff and pillage and plunder the Apple store. I would embark on a life of criminal fashionista-ing, and be the best dressed, most black-hearted villainess in the history of invisible ladies with a penchant for frippery and accessorisation.

Also, there would be many amusing pranks played upon the unsuspecting peoples of the lands. Childish japes involving floating hats and jellies. Things of that sort.

I am a bad, bad person.

*finally I get to use my extended vocabulary! Perspicacious! Onomatopaeic! Corpulent Ovarian Tittivation! Yar!
** or to stop time. or BOTH! THAT WOULD BE SO SWEEEEEEEEET!

40-year-Old Socialite and Dog...

... Actually, no. It's a 15-year-old Lohan sister. And Dog. Lately every photo of Ali Lohan I see is mildly disturbing, as she seems not just to be older than her crazy eating-disorderly, drunken slightly-unwashed-looking Courtney-Lovesque sister; but older than her white-trash stage mom.

Partly it's the heavy makeup. It's certainly skillful, no smudged eyeliner and badly-applied foundation. No crazy eyeshadow colours. Nothing an actual teenager would apply. It's not even that heavy- although it must be, for all those freckles to just magically vanish. Basically, they've taken a cute, freckled, fresh-faced teen and turned her into someone considerably older. With boring hair. And pasty skin. I'd undersand if they did this to sexify her- you know, add a little strumpetification, make her look more legal and less lolita... But she's someone's waspy Mom now. You just know she drives out to wine farms on the weekends, drives a Volvo and thins Bree is the most realistic of the Desperate girls.

I suppose this must be some sort of reaction to her mom and sister. She's certainly veered wildly towards the opposite end of the spectrum. Nobody in their right minds could apply the words trashy, slutty or "badly manicured" here. and her sister could learn a lot about eyebrow grooming from her*.

And her dog is certainly cute.

*badly groomed eyebrows indiate a generally laissez-faire attitude towards life, don't you agree?

I was on vacation, and then I was lazy.

kitteh via memebon.jp

Right, well, there goes that set of good intentions out of the window. Honestly. There's something about wintry weather that just saps you of energy and motivation and drives you only towards the snugglydom of your bed, and the warm comforts of hot chocolate and snack foods.

My man and I spent took leave between the long weekends and snuck away to Knysna for a some romantical times. It was long overdue as he had been working very hard and I was just frazzled and bored by the drudgery of working life. We spent a lovely few days (not enough) feeding elephants*, visiting the wolf sanctuary (great bunnies there, by the way), snuggling up to the fire in the evenings, eating outdoors, and generallly hugging trees and acting like tourists. It was a fantastic holiday and at least two weeks too short.

It was hard coming back, though. There's nothing quite like that first Monday morning back. Especially when winter has struck over the holiday: it's pitch black night when you wake up, your circadian rythms are all wonky, you've forgotten all the important details you needed to remember, and the coffee isn't nearly strong enough for your needs.

Somehow, though, the feeling of bliss managed to last at least until Wednesday, and my patience and sense of fortitude has yet to wear thin. Perhaps it's because the last few months have ushered in a new era of peace and prosperity in my office, initiated by my new, more efficient**, more effective super-robot-office-ninja***-me. Perhaps it's because of my new more stylish hairstlye (Cate Blanchett even stole it for the new Indy movie). Perhaps it's because I watched the Final Cut of Blade Runner last night.

But right now, not even the teenagers can irk me.

*be warned, their snot is smelly, and there's lots of it.
** not really, but if you act in a certain way people are more likely to believe you.
***"Office Ninja"(noun): one wh ois capable and indispensible in the many secret realms of the office****, and never lets the ball drop- the sword either.
**** double-sided photocopying, powerpoint, photoshop.