I Accidentally Left The Country and 5QF

It was a lovely spring day!  Amber's friend from Mississippi was visiting us for a week in our beautiful state of Pennyslvania-the furthest north she has ever been. 



Since we live just a few hours from Niagara Falls, we wanted to take Erin to see them.  It's quite an attraction, and being up close to the Falls shows just a tiny bit of the magnificence of our great God.  I'd never been to the American Falls, only to the Canada side on my honeymoon.



The ride up was so calm, with little traffic and no problems.  I'm grateful for having a GPS! 



Nearing the end of our journey, all of the signs, along with the GPS instructions, were getting confusing!  I couldn't quite figure out where to go, so I went where I thought I should go.



I pulled up to a little building/booth with a very high window, and a man poked his head out.  I told him I was lost, and he asked for my license.  I didn't know it, but I was now in Canada.



CANADA!



Oh-and did I mention we didn't have any passports?



The man asked if my GPS had brought me there, and of course, the answer was yes!  He told me to go to that building over there, and inside I would get a paper to take with me to head back to the States.



I go inside, and tell the lady I got lost, and she too, asked if it was my GPS.  THANKFULLY I am not the only person who has ever gone to Canada on accident!  I could tell since both Canadian folks I had to speak to guessed right on the money what brought me to their country on the first guess!



The lady gave me my Canadian rejection paper, and told me how to head back home. 



Our visitor Erin was now able to go home and tell everyone that she not only visited this far north for the first time, but she also got to step on Canadian concrete!



Heading out of the parking lot, believe it or not, I got confused, and wasn't sure which was to go.  I SURELY wasn't going to ask my GPS for help again!



I asked a truck driver who had pulled over which way to go, and he showed me, along with showing me a map, and warning me that I was going to be given a hard time trying to get back into the United States.



Great.



We got back to the bridge that brings us home, and of course, I was in the wrong lane when I was trying to come back to the States.  I was in the truck lane.  But the nice trucker behind me beeped and pointed me in the right direction.



After taking our picture upon entering the States, I gave Homeland Security my rejection paper.



Let me interject here---coming into the United States is one time that you absolutely do NOT, I repeat, DO NOT, want to crack stupid jokes.  It's probably a real good thing Dan wasn't with us.



The very serious, very stern man asked for our passports, which of course, we didn't have, because we didn't know we were leaving the country.  He asked for our licenses, which we only had two.  Security pointed out that we only had two licenses, but there were five of us, and wanted to know why.



Um....because Dakota is 12???  And Amber doesn't have hers yet either????  And one was at home, which just left two of us with a license.



Amber, being the teenager she is, immediately picks up the cell phone and starts texting about our adventure.



Security got a bit radical about it and asked what she was doing!  We answered that she was texting, and he said she couldn't do that here!  Amber practically threw the phone down.



Then Security tells us one moment, and calls someone.  Three other Security men come to our car-one goes in the booth with the other officer, and the other two ESCORT my passangers out of the car and into the Homeland Security building!



Sigh.....



After going thru more questions and feeling like criminals, along with not having passports, we get ready to leave.



I know the guy in the building told me how to get out of there, but I was already confused when I got out in the parking lot and saw more than one way I could possibly go.



So, I asked the parking lot officer to tell me where to go.  He asked if I had a certain paper, which I didn't because one wasn't given to me, and then told me to wait while he checked to make sure we were cleared, since we weren't in the building for very long.



He gave us directions, and we were finally on our way AWAY from CANADA!!!



So!  Boys and Girls, the lesson for today is:



Do not leave the country without a passport!!!



I actually don't think I ever want to leave the country again, even WITH a passport!



Well, it DID make for a more memorable trip for a Southern Belle!  =)





Now onto the 5QF! 



1. Have you ever had surgery?

Yep! On both of my big toes.  Back in the day of big, permed hair, was also the day of pointy-toes shoes.  Fashion is a cruel taskmaster!  I ended up with problems from my toes being scruched together in those pointy shoes, which required surgery.  My one toe got infected, so he had to do it all over again!



Speaking of toes, did you ever notice when you hurt your toe, for a few weeks after that, it seems to have a built-in magnet that attracts everything you walk by, that could possibly hurt if you bump into it?



2. Ever ride in an ambulance?

I don't believe so, but when Dan fell from a tree 2 years ago, and due to nerve damage, was taken by helicopter to a bigger hospital an hour away, Dakota, Elissa and I drove to the airport to watch him go.  He was taken by ambulance to the airport.



3. How are you in a medical emergency? Panicked? Calm?

When it's my children, and it's something that requires stitches, and there is bleeding involved, I try to stay calm so that I can keep my children calm.  I've been blessed that I haven't had to face too many medical emergencies.

I did, however, feel like crying, and was scared when I met Dan and Dakota at the hospital after they got carbon monoxide poisoning.  The bloodshot eyes, the bad headaches, and the reality of what had happened while Amber and I were away that day, sinking in, really scared me.  I could have come home to both of my men dead.



4. Do you have a garden? Flowers or veggies?

We will have a garden this year!  Fresh veggies!  I do have some flowers and plants in my landscape as well.



5. When did you move out of your parents house?

When I was 23.  I lived with a lady from my church for 6 months, and then got married and moved out of state.  =)



I hope everyone has a nice weekend!  And thanks for stopping by!

My Chicken Sneaks into the Window for Cat Food

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xoxox

Body, Mind, & Spirit

I read today about a man who "cured" his bipolar by eating a diet of seafood for four months. He claimed to have had bipolar for over 20 years, but that after eating this "diet" for four months he was "cured" so much so that he was able to discontinue all meds. If you believe that, I have a bridge for sale too. You can place your bids starting the second Tuesday of next week. I have intentionally not included the link because I do not want to drive traffic to the site or make someone think I endorce that when I absolutely do not.

I do believe that your diet can affect your bipolar, but there is no way diet can "cure" bipolar. There is no "cure". There is only management.

I use to be a junkfood aholic. I was always on the go. Moving. Constantly. No time to stop. No time to cook. No time to shop for food that takes longer than 2 mins in the microwave. I had too much to do, too many places to go. I did not have time to wait for water to boil to even make spaghetti.  I ate out. A LOT. I drank soda. A LOT. Almost all of my food was prepackaged, processed, fast food, greasy, fried and covered with cheese. To say I did not eat healthy is an understatement.

For the last three years, I eat fresh veggies. Cooked properly. With real food. Not Mickey D's. No whoppers with cheese. But real food. I don't drink sodas. Maybe once a month I MIGHT have a glass or two, but that is it. I don't eat junk. No more lil debbie snack cakes, no cream filled donuts, no twinkies. I use to  eat a bag of potato chips/crisps in one day. Now I might eat one bag every three months. I eat lots of fresh fruits also. Drink tons of water a day. I do yoga. Daily.

When I don't do these things, I notice a huge difference in my body and mind. If for some reason I eat too much sugary sweets, I start to feel "tired", sluggish, fatigued. Then my mind also becomes "tired, sluggish, and fatigued". I don't physically feel like getting out of bed which makes my mind not want to get out of bed. Which leads me to sleeping all day. Which leads to depression. Which leads to cutting.

I do not for one second think that diet can cure or treat bipolar, but any parent who gives their kid a candy bar instead of an apple an hour before bedtime knows how difficult it will be to get lil jimmy to sleep.

Sodas, sweets, junk food, and fast food are all loaded with sugar, caffeine and a bunch of other unhealthy things. They make you feel jittery, hyper, on edge. I already feel "jittery, hyper, and on edge". I don't need anything to make me feel more so than I already do. I fully believe that mental ailments can have physical symptoms and your overall diet can effect your state of mind.

That doesn't mean to go buy veggies and get rid of your meds, but I know for myself at least, that my diet has a direct effect on my mental state. My mental state has a direct effect on my diet. If for 2 or 3 days, I don't do yoga, then suddenly I realize I haven't done yoga. I then can look to see WHY I haven't done it. Is it because I had a cold or PMS? Or is it because I am starting to feel depressed and not taking care of myself? How is my diet? Am I eating healthy or just eating junk?

By looking at how I am caring for myself overall, I can catch myself before I go too far. For myself at least, this is the best way I have of remaining stable. When people start to get depressed, the first thing that they usually do is stop taking care of their diet and physical appearances. By noticing these small changes, I can usually catch myself and bring myself out of whatever deep end I am about to go off. Jigger also notices these things. If I start eating things I don't normally eat or not exercising, he will ask if I am ok because he now understands this is  a sign. Treating bipolar isn't just about meds or therapy. It isn't pop a pill and be all better again.

If you want to live a productive life while having a PD, then you have to treat MIND, BODY, & SPIRIT. At least I know I have to.

Passover papercut

Although not my usual style, this was an interesting project.  This is a papercut which has been specially commissioned as a template for a religious summer camp for kids in the USA. A range of age groups will be cutting various parts of the piece which is why I've tried to incorporate some easier as well as more tricky bits. The papercut involves some folded cutting as well as some flat cutting.  I just hope the kids can do it!!!

The size is A4


These are the stages involved for cutting this piece.

Stage 1
Fold the paper and make the first relatively simple cut.
This is my first ever folded papercut!

When opened, the papercut will be symmetrical.
There are now 4 cups of wine and a Seder plate.  The leafy bits are just decorative and are there to hold it all together!

Stage 2
The most complicated cutting is the symbolic parts of the Seder plate.
All writing had to be done in reverse as this is the wrong side.
You can click on the photos for larger images.

This is the right side.
The shank bone looks like a guitar, I know!

Cut the border writing - not too hard but time-consuming.

I have made a reverse image template for the kids to cut from.

New Things

New Tables

New Paintings

New Blue and White Bone Inlay Boxes and Pink Inlay boxes too...

Another new painting

And another fabulous and very reasonably priced table

It really is like Christmas at Black & Spiro lately with all of the beautiful new things we have arriving from our overseas suppliers and also our wonderful Australian suppliers too.  Here are a few things which just arrived in this week.  I am finding it hard not to take things home.  I whisked one of the new pink inlaid trays home with me yesterday and I am obsessed with it...almost as much as my garden!!!

Seriously, Google WTF?!

So I went to check out my stats. Google apparently has some vendetta against me. I write about all kinds of things. Does Google choose some sage words of wisdom or great advice I gave on how to manage or deal with bipolar?

Oh fuck no Google is a sadist. What  makes Google land upon my lovely world?

Blow sugar up your ass- seriously? people actually  Blow. Sugar. Up. Their. Ass. I reiterate that is an emergency exit. No entrance of any one or thing is allowed.

Ass lick - I think Google has some serious issues. It seems determined to get up in my ass. Dude that is a no fly zone. Fuck off

Man Castrated - I guess that is what happened to Google after he licked the sugar out of some one's ass

I think it's time we scheduled an intervention and got Google the help he is desperately calling out for. Or at least a tube of lubricant. Sugar flavored.

I can see that look in your eyes
I know what you wanna do
you'd die to have me in your thighs
you'd even pay me too

"do you wanna fuck me - forgotten rebels"

Wishes and Freedom

(picture, 1997-ish, age 20 -- Tunica Hills, LA.)

Do you ever feel trapped by the flow of your own life? Things are going just as planned, in fact you might even be getting some of the things you wished for... and of course when you get those, you wish for more things. Or say nothing is going as planned, it's a big mess and so you want to escape.

I have noticed that humans (myself for sure) tend to go from day to day building up a life, building brick upon brick, foundation, into walls, into personal castle. It seems as though we are building something great, it feels quite safe and accomplished to have something worked on for so long. It's your inner self, the castle... your beliefs, your lifestyle, all your choices, your personality and day to day reactions. And you are really invested in it, of course.

But I... don't know if my castle matters. My opinions are like the wind. I don't know if having the goal of being perfectly stable and predictable is healthy, worth it, or even fun. I don't know if once my castle is all built if i even care to decorate the inside or move in... maybe i just like to go from place to place building new castles, trying out new things, taking risks. Rather then get attached to what i built.

It's not that i don't like myself, or that i don't like my lifestyle. It's that something inside me, some soul-like substance is always driving me to new experiences and I can't really stop it. I have spent the last ten years working on living a sustainable life in the woods, and I have accomplished more then I ever thought I would. It started because I was sick with horrible health problems and then I fell in love with every blade of grass, every wildflower, every rock... i had slowed down enough to merge with nature. And nature taught me how to truly love. But now... i want something else -and i am not referring to city living, but more a coming out of the foggy patterns my health put me in. I want to merge with nature, people, reality, the world, my own health, my own potential - the full picture. I don't have to focus only on one wish, i want a bigger picture,

i want freedom to seek the picture and all it's contents.

XOxoxo

Garden Pots Inside

After planting a few little pots for my garden table on the weekend I have been thinking I might do a few more so that I can bring some inside to put on the table in our lounge room or to place down the centre of the dining table when we have people over for dinner.  I also love how they are placed on the bench in the bathroom I have posted above.  I think it would be a nice idea to find an old rack with perforated shelves {like Brooke's} so that I can store lots of potted up succulents and also my potted bulbs and herbs in the garden near our garden shed.  Lots to do!!

PS.  If anyone is wanting to plant up some of these traditional little terracotta pots, I purchased mine from Bunnings.  I think they were approximately $2.50 per pot.  And if you live in Brisbane and want to purchase some bulbs then head to Bunnings as well.  Bulbs can be a bit tricky to buy here in Brisbane due to them not really liking our climate.   Oh and one more thing, if you want to plant some sweet peas you need to get them in this week if you live here!!  Mine were planted yesterday.  I can't wait to see them grow and flower over the coming weeks.

PPS. I only know these things about when to plant etc. thanks to Merve, Uncle Robbie, my mother, my grandmother and the lovely man at Bunnings who is my new best friend.  What would I do without them!!


image 1 - via delight by design scanned from easy elegance, image 2 - http://brookegiannetti.typepad.com/ {thanks viera}

Windmill Papercut - completed piece.

Here's the finished piece.  Sorry about the slightly blurry bottom image.  I'll take that photo again with my camera on a tripod!

Windmill Papercut

So here are the final few Work In Progress photos.  I'll post the finished item up separately.

I'm pretty pleased with the way it turned out.

A tip for anyone who's thinking of trying papercutting - don't draw out your picture with pen!

This was a bit of a mistake as it made my cut line virtually impossible to see and I ended up cutting slightly off the line in most places.  When you're cutting over a pencil line, the cut line shows up very clearly and makes life much easier.

Delusions of Grandeur

redrum redrum

In case it's not obvious, I am pretty much self-treating at the moment. I don't have a therapist and don't take meds for my Bipolar. I have taken or well at least been prescribed meds in the past, but never really took them. My therapists were never much concerned. I had state health care which never covered more than a few weeks sessions so I never really saw them unless I had just downed a bottle of pills or two.

The first year of my marriage to Jigger was basically a rinse and repeat of my past. Fighting, yelling, screaming, throwing things and Jigger would get pissed every now and then too. After trying for a year to make Jigger leave/hate me, I gave up and since then have been seeing Dr. Google. He is all I can afford at the moment, but in all fairness, Dr. Google has probably helped me more than the 10+ years of on/off therapy and 3 hospitalizations for suicide and "nervous breakdowns" so I don't want to diss him too much.

Even though he has helped me, he is no substitute for the real thing. I do not recommend his services. You should find a doctor in your area. One that is preferably human and has the ability to write prescriptions. I do not believe a bipolar person can be stable without medications and therapy. At the moment, I am steady, but anything can rock my boat and I will fall into the abyss once again. So please do not think because I seem ok without meds that you or your loved one will be ok without meds. I am a ticking timebomb and sooner or later I will explode.

Where was I? Oh yea blogging.

 I started blogging as a way for me to clear my head and focus.  I will never be able to educate others the way Haven and Natasha do, but I hope that by sharing my experiences and how I felt while things were happening that friends and family of people with bipolar might gain a better understanding as to what is going on inside the mind of bipolar. Every person's experience is different, but in some ways it is very much the same.

I have learned a lot in the few weeks I have been blogging. Met some amazing people, some I dare to call "friends", but through all of my reading, researching, and discovering I have yet to find anyone who has shared a personal experience on one very important aspect of bipolar. Whenever you read anything on bipolar, there is always a list of symptoms, and on that list is a symptom that almost all people with bipolar experience in some form or fashion.

That symptom is grandiose delusions. In simple terms, it means "thinking you're better at (insert noun here)  than others". That definition however does not do justice to the reality of this symptom. One common and less extreme example is suddenly believing you're the best damn artist there is. You go out and buy every paint brush, canvas, oil, easel, etc that you can get your hands on. You buy all of this with your rent money, and in a couple weeks when the mania has subsided a bit and the "grandeur" has faded, you realize your stick figures aren't that great and how the fuck am I gonna pay the rent now?

My delusions were a bit different. I told you about my mother (if you didn't read it but want to then the post is here) because I wanted you to understand what would drive a person "mad". Especially when that person is already standing on the cliff, it doesn't take much to push them over the edge.

If you're still reading at this point, I thank you for being patient with me as this is a very sensitive subject. One I want to share because I know there are others out there, but also one that truly labels me as "crazy". Not just crazy but one who flew over the cuckoo's nest crazy.

You see in this vulnerable state after the last time I saw my mother, I met the wrong person. I became extremely religious, but don't think I sat around praying all the time because I didn't. I did however start to believe that I had a special relationship with God that others didn't, and through the help of this wrong person I began to believe that I was specially chosen by God to complete a purpose and to prepare an army for the return of the Savior.

I will give you a moment to digest that before telling you that I believed I could see "spirits" who guided me, told me about future events, and I even believed I could read the minds of others. I believed this so strongly that I sold all of my possessions and moved to another country  in order to fulfill my mission. There really should be psyche tests in order to get your passport.

I lived in this state of delusion for a little over a year. When the delusion crashed and burned so did I. I went from being the guide of the Savior to being the absolute best motherfucking whore that I could be.

That is how far  the other way I swung. I felt that I had blasphemed to such an extent that I was destined to hell for all of eternity so what was one more sin added to the list? You can't kill a dead man. That was my philosophy.

During these three years I had moments of sanity. Moments where I would attempt to straighten my life out and get back on track, but my view of reality was so skewed that everything I did just dragged me down farther and farther. When you sleep in the mud, you can't really expect the pigs to help you get clean.

I became trapped in a vicious downward spiral. The more I tried to get out the further I fell. This is also how I ended up being a "kept woman".

I really don't know how I didn't end up murdered considering all of the shit I did during those 3 years.  Every night I begged God to just let me die. I would often fall asleep on the floor in a kneeling position. I would spend hours and hours begging, "Please don't let me wake up tomorrow". For whatever reason though I never contemplated suicide. I was too ashamed to commit suicide if that even makes any sense at all. I cut myself almost daily. I have been a cutter since I was about 12. Although I have only done it a handful of times since I married Jigger. When he saw the scars, he made me promise to NEVER do it again. I have kept that promise as best as I could. I started this blog as an attempt to keep that promise. I had become severely depressed and was sitting with the razor blade in my hand. My brain literally screaming like it was on fire. For some bizarre reason, blogging seemed the perfect alternative. So here I am. Dumping my shit on you.

My point in sharing all of this is that if you see your loved one suddenly think they are superman in some area or if their behavior suddenly changes and they start doing things like selling off ALL of their possessions and applying for a passport, then don't assume they are just being selfish. Don't assume they are choosing themselves over their family. Most likely they are having a manic episode and they need help. Immediately. So please help them. You can always yell at them later for being a dumbass, but if they sail away and fall off the edge of the earth, then it makes it a bit harder for them to say they are sorry when they come back to reality. If they ever come back at all.

I believe I can fly
I believe I can touch the sky
I think about it every night and day
Spread my wings and fly away
I believe I can soar

 

"i believe i can fly - r kelly"

I Am - The Documentary

 http://iamthedoc.com/

Nothing a little meditation on (or brush with) death can't accomplish....
  
I'd like to do, or see, a film that asks an even more fundamental question than the one expressed in the I Am documentary trailer, which is, "What's wrong with our world and what can we do about it?" 

The question I would ask, rather, is "What's wrong with me and what can I do about it?"

I have a feeling that this question would yield answers that would also do a lot toward building a world we each want to see. I might call such a film: We Am.

Silver Gray Impala

The gravel flew as he pulled into the driveway. I had been playing in the backyard. As soon as I heard the car door slam, I ran to the front. The bright red hood confirmed my suspicions. It was Gramps. I don't really remember the day it happened. I have heard the story at least 1000  times if not more. I have some fuzzy memories of a man standing with the axe raised over his head, but that is about it.

Gramps use to be an alcoholic. He was a mean drunk too. You did not want to be in his way whenever he had a few too many. That is why the hood of the car is red. When I was 9, I finally got the courage to ask him "Why didn't he change it to match the rest of the car"?

"So I don't forget, that's why", was his reply.

At 6, I didn't know about AA. I didn't know that 12 steps was a "program" and not a new hop scotch game, but I knew what that red hood on the silver gray impala meant. It meant Gramps didn't get mean anymore. Didn't get drunk. Didn't shout. It might not have been conventional, but it worked.

Every now and then I would see him walk out to the car and run his hand over the hood.52 whacks. Lizzie Borden would have been proud. He had whacked the hood of his most prized possession 52 times with an axe and didn't remember a damn thing. He may not have remembered it, but the car did. That is why its hood is red. A constant reminder that maybe next time it won't be the car. Next time it might be a little 6 year old girl playing hop scotch on the front porch.

This is for the writing prompt at Studio 30+. The prompt was RED.

Windmill papercut - wip photos

I'm making good progress with the cutting today.  

I enjoy this stage where it's emerging from the paper.

Chair Heaven

When I was at a client's house a few weeks ago I spotted this fabulous image when she was showing me through her file of things she loves.  I took a photo of the tear sheet as I too love this chair.  I'm sorry I don't know the source of this photo so if anyone does then just let me know.  This image has now been slotted into my file of things I love...the file is bulging these days!

image source thanks to Make mine Mid-Century Blog - Home Beautiful May 2007 'Bohemian Rhapsody' p 72.

Aftermath

Yesterday I wrote about the last time I saw my mother and basically my family. You can read that post HERE if you want.

I was extremely shocked by the amount of emotion I felt as I wrote that post. It is very raw and I allowed myself to feel what I was feeling. I allowed myself to feel the anger and hurt. I allowed that little girl inside of me to cry because she needed validation. I allowed her to be angry for not being protected, for not being loved the way she should have been. I allowed her to have her moment.

I think that is very important for me. For a very long time I didn't allow that little girl to feel. I didn't allow her to be angry at those who had hurt her. That caused her to become angry with me. She turned her anger on me. Instead of cutting them, she cut me. Instead of hating them, she hated me.

That is why I allowed her to  be pissed yesterday when I wrote that post. She has a right to be pissed. What happened to her was fucked up no matter how you look at it, but in the comments Natasha pointed something out. That my mother had to be in pain also because otherwise she wouldn't have done what she did.

In some ways, I agree with that statement. It is not an excuse for her wrong behavior. It does not mean I don't have a right to be angry with what happened, but it's an explanation.

After getting through the emotion and being able to look at it objectively, I can see that is WHY. Without realizing it, I have always had the answer, but I just couldn't see it because I choose to be numb and not feel.

Because I never allowed myself to feel I could never work through the pain to find the answers even though they were staring me in the face this whole time. I think it is important I continue to allow myself to have those moments and then let them go.

I am no angel either. I have done things especially with my own children that I am not proud of, but my actions were a direct result of my illness. I am not making excuses. Being crazy does not justify and make it ok to do something wrong, but I know that if I wasn't crazy, then I would not have done the things I did. That is why I am not a bad person.

Am I a person who did wrong?  Absolutely.

Am I a person who made mistakes?  Absolutely.

Am I trying to take responsibility for my mistakes and become better?  Absolutely.

Am I evil? Absolutely not.

A ten year old who commits murder is not the same as a 30 year old who commits murder. Should the ten year old be punished and held accountable? Yes. The same as a 30 year old? Absolutely not. At least that is my opinion. You may not agree and that is ok, but I don't think they are the same. A man who steals to provide food for his starving child is not the same as a man who is rich and steals to pass the time.

It's important family and friends disassociate the behavior from the person. Not excuse it, but try to understand that I don't want to do the things I am doing. There is a little voice inside my head screaming "WTF?! STOP!" but it's like my body isn't connected to my brain. The best way I can describe it is like being on a roller coaster. You're standing in line, adrenaline pumping, you get strapped in, the ride starts moving, slowly you're going up and your brain is screaming "GET ME THE FUCK OUT OF HERE",  but you're already strapped in and half way up the incline. Now all you can do is scream like a banshee until the ride stops, then get off and pray you don't puke on your brand new shoes.

This is what it's like in my bipolar brain. I do stuff. Stupid crazy insane shit that makes no fucking sense. Shit that goes against every single thing I believe in. I don't know why I do it. I don't want to do it, but I do it none the less.

If one day my kids ask me, WHY?!

All I can do is answer them honestly, "I have no fucking clue, but I am so sorry that my actions hurt you."

That is what makes me human and NOT a monster.

"if I could start again; a million miles away

I would keep myself; I would find a way"

"hurt- nine inch nails"

The FOG

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Ride with me through the creeeeepppppy SPooookkkY fog!
It's so beautiful, you will want to reach out and touch it, like a bug goes towards a bug light.



xoxoxo

Windmill papercut - initial drawing

My good friend Tania reminded me today that my blog was woefully neglected!

She's absolutely right of course - life seems to have taken over recently - like getting all three of my children healthy and at school on the same days! That's an ongoing battle that I'm determined to win!

Anyway, despite having my oldest son at home ill today, I still managed to get cracking on a drawing for a new piece.  As you can see, it's another of my cross-sections, but this time I thought I'd do something a little different - hence a windmill!

This is the reverse of the papercut - the right side is black as is usual for me.

Can't wait to get cutting this one - will keep you updated with lots of wip photos.

Windmill papercut drawing

Size A3


PS: If you're wondering what's happening with the unfinished piece from the previous post - well, I'm just really not sure about it.  It just doesn't feel right to me.  I never throw anything away and may come back to it at some point - but for now it's shelved :(
These things happen.

FAIL! Seasoning My Iron Waffle Skillet

Um. I dont know what went wrong with seasoning this thing, but here is what happened : My mom sent me this awesome cast iron waffle skillet, that you can use on any hot surface! No electricity required - you can cook on top your gas stove, wood stove, probably an open fire. So... it came unseasoned, ya know... without the blackened oiled non stick natural surface it acquires after use. So i pulled out the pamphlet and read that i had to oil it and then put it in the oven to start the seasoning. Ok. Not too hard, I hoped. So i put olive oil all over it and stuck it in my toaster oven. It wasn't long before I turned around to see what the fucked up smell was, that the whole cabin was filling up with a heavy thick white smoke!!! The waffle skillet had some kind of waxy shit on it ( i thought i felt on it but wasn't sure), that had to melt off and so I assumed the smoke was the wax burning... i had no idea it would pollute my house so bad! ...... so i tried something else..... At this point I figured most the mystery wax must have been gone (mostly now in my lungs and cabin ceiling)... so i let the oil sit in the skillet for a few days, thinking maybe it would absorb. But it didn't. Then i stuck it on my wood stove since i had a fire going and it was majorly hot. It still made really bad weird smells - but no smoke so I was cool with the mildly donut shop/mildly metallic/mildly 'what is that melting' stench. BUT then THIS HAPPENED!!!!! Look at these pictures! (above and below!) .... OMgawd, this is not was it is supposed to look like. One side of the skillet turned all orange red and looks not at all seasoned. The other side, WTF is that gelatinous substance? It's got a red black tint, and it's not even flowing while warm - it's like a goo. Like hot stable iron & wax flavored jello... or maybe chapstick? What did i do wrong? This is a total 100% fail! xoxxoxo

Make A Wish Mummy Dear

Today is my mum's birthday. It's funny how now I remember but before I never did. I haven't seen or spoken to her since 2004. She might be dead for all I know or care. It's strange. I want to hate her. At least then I would have some emotion. Some feeling, but there is just numb. I am not sure if I ever truly loved her. Maybe when I was little. Before I could fully understand her.

The last time I saw her I almost killed her. If my uncle and gramps hadn't pulled me off of her I am certain I would have beaten her to death. I only regret that I didn't finish the job. My last words to her were "Rot in hell bitch" as I spit in her face. That was the last time I really saw anyone in my family.

I won't ever forget that day. I don't remember many days but that day is one I will never forget. My mother never wanted to divorce my father. I don't know if she got off on getting the hell beat out of her or what the attraction was. That day I had found out she had taken  my children to visit him. When I asked her why and how could she? She just looked at me and laughed, asked me if I was "jealous".

That was when I came unglued and began screaming at her. My father is a rapist. I don't use the word "incest" or "molested". Those words are too nice. What my father did was rape. It doesn't matter that I was 4. It doesn't matter that I was his daughter. It was still rape.

Not that anyone in my family ever talked about it. Oh no. No one was allowed to talk about it. Just pretend it didn't happen. But that day all of the rage I had kept bottled inside of me for more than 15 years just exploded.

I grabbed her by the hair of  her head and threw her to the ground, sat on top of her and began pounding. With each hit, I would ask

"WHY?! "

Why didn't you protect me?

Why did you let that man rape me?

Why do you still love him more than me?

Why do you still choose him over me?

Why don't you love me like a mother should love a daughter?

"WHY?!"

As Uncle and Gramps pulled me off of her, she gave me the answer.

"Because you deserved it"

Four little words that tore through me like a bullet. I died that day. That was the day  my whole world began to unravel. That was the day my mind left this world and entered an alternate universe. Four words that no child should ever have to hear. I lost my job, my home, my life because of four words. I had endured pain, sorrow, beatings, rape, torture, fear, but those four words did to me what years of abuse and insanity couldn't. They broke me.

I hated her more than I ever did my father. I blamed her more than I ever blamed him. Even though he did the actions. I blamed her for staying. For loving him instead of me. How bad must a child be that its own mother would love the man who raped her child more than the child itself?

 I am still looking for the answer.

I think I'll find another way
There's so much more to know
I guess I'll die another day
It's not my time to go

"die another day - madonna"

Kam-sa-ham-ni-da (Thank you) South Korea, I am out!

Tomorrow morning I’ll take the plane back to South Africa after spending a year in South Korea as an English teacher.

Time flew by real quick and I had some wonderful experiences living and travelling in East Asia.

I can recall back when I boarded the plane for Taiwan as if it was yesterday. I couldn’t wait any longer in South Africa and wanted to leave, so I decided to go and look for work in Taiwan, but soon received a call from Korea to come and work on an island somewhere in the yellow sea. I took the post without hesitation and did not really know what I was getting myself into. I still remember those first moments in Korea when I set foot into my apartment to find a dirty dump and not knowing who else lived on the island. I remember sitting on the bed which was covered in blood because the guy before me had to leave due to an anal infection and thinking to myself; “what the fuck did I get myself into coming to this far off place for a year?”

Things soon changed as I made friends and realised that I was not alone on the outskirts. And it’s these friends that made my time here all the more memorable. We were a small community who became real good friends and we carried each other through the good and bad times. This place is really different and remote and it was my friends that made this year so great.

Commuting to work on another island for an hour daily was an experience in itself. I took a ferry to work every day and often had to run for busses or hitch-hike rides with Koreans as I tried to communicate in my non-existent Korean. I soon figured out who was who and would get rides with either the police chief, the bank manager or post office attendants. I later knew all the faces on the morning and afternoon ferry and locals would give me rides knowing that I am the foreign teacher teaching their children. The ferry crew understood that I didn’t want to stand in a line with Koreans and that I’d sometimes run for the ferry even as it pulled out. I became a local on the ferry and informed people where to take the bus as we shared a shot of Soju or ran together for the late afternoon bus. I was never able to speak the language and made no effort, but the people on my route knew me and we shared a laugh, a nod of the head or a one liner in Korean or English.

Many people would complain about this tiring commute, but I decided to make the most of it and there was a part of me that enjoyed sprinting for busses or negotiating a lift to and from school.

I taught at two small elementary schools and loved the small intimate classes. I knew all my students and had a good relationship with each. There were only two boys out of all 39 students (two schools in total, eight classes) that I taught who I had a hard time with. Other than that I had a good report and enjoyed what I did. It was really one of the easiest jobs for good money. I earned a decent salary to play bingo and sing songs and put this money to good use to travel.

The main reason for coming to South Korea was to travel and I think I did okay in that department. In a years’ time I was able to travel to Taiwan, mission around Indonesia with Clementine, hike the Great Wall of China near Beijing and ferry to China to see the bustling city of Shanghai. I did a bit a travelling around Korea too, but was never intrigued by this place. Korea is an interesting place, but at times it was too square and I spent most of my time in Ganghwa and Seoul on the weekends.

I had a truly authentic experience as I lived out in rural Korea and would hit the city on weekends.

Ganghwa had its ups and downs, but we all persevered through to make this a great experience. There were times that routine was killing me and so to the lack of diversity. Other times I felt alive as I saw the fighter planes overhead during the shelling of Yeongpyong Island by North Korea. The days we hiked the surrounding hills after work or the mornings I woke up with the most brutal Soju hangover. Pulling faces, making noises and drawing pictures to order food, missing a bus or train, beating old men at pool, head banging to Iron Maiden, getting the school mute to speak, realising the power of a ‘high-five’ and putting a smile on the ferry crews faces all contributed to me having an enriching experience.

It’s an old saying but I do agree with it and it’s that you determine your own happiness. I stayed positive throughout my time here knowing that it was only temporary and that I came here for the experience.

I’ve thought about why this year has been so good for me and it came down to this: Having Clementine visit me three times and a solid group of friends was what made it. Her visits and being able to travel with her to Indonesia and having her here for Christmas is something I’ll forever be grateful for. Along with Clementine’s visits were also the opportunities I had to travel around East Asia seeing places I only dreamed about and the solid community of native English speakers.

In two days from now I’ll be drinking a cold one in warm Cape Town and I’ll think back on my year abroad. A lot will only then kick in and reveal itself, but as I am sitting here I am nostalgic about the year that has past and excited for the next adventure.

Garden Ramblings

This is our garden yesterday with the round garden table Harry and I filled

with pots and also our vegetable garden to the left.

If my ramblings about my garden are becoming annoying just take me off your google reader or stop reading because I am thoroughly enjoying the excitement my garden is bringing me and I hope that these posts might inspire you to get your gloves on too.  I am actually quite a highly-strung, stressed-out maniac most of time however, I am finding that my garden is a place where I can relax.  I tend to drift off into another world when I am out there.  So, this is what I got up to on the weekend.

Harry and I planted up 10 little pots with succulents, herbs, pansies and another little plant which I can't remember the name of.  We arranged them on a round wire garden table which I placed near our vegetable garden.  I think this idea is such a great idea for interest in a large garden like ours but also would be wonderful on a verandah in an apartment or in a courtyard in a small garden.  I originally got the idea from a story on Deborah Needleman in Lonny magazine.  I think it was in one of their first issues...

We also started planting up some terracotta pots with Hyacinth bulbs which won't flower now until Spring but we are prepared and I think I might plant a few more this weekend as they will make nice gifts when Spring comes around. We also planted 30 Daffodil bulbs into the garden.  This weekend we will plant the Ranunculus, Freesias and tulips {which are currently in the fridge}.  I am keeping my fingers crossed that they will like it here in our red soil and will flower in Spring.

On Saturday we spotted 2 capsicum growing in our vegetable garden along with some corn.  We collected a small basket full of beans and cherry tomatoes which I cooked up on Saturday night.  This week we are planting some pretty sweet peas...this is the perfect time here for planting them.

And just to prove that I am making some headway in the garden compare the top photo in this post to this photo above as this is what one area of our garden looked like just before Christmas last year.  What a difference some effort can make and some help from my Uncle Robbie and Merv our lovely 84 year old gardener.  I can't claim all the accolades although if I didn't work I think I might be out there 24-7!

PS...One day she will be painted white but for the meantime we endure the red, green and yellow...xx