Its your turn to blush

Jaysus its been fucking emo around here lately.  You can all stop sulking with me now and leave some friggin comments already, okay?  I have a sprained neck and I’m on killer anti-inflams but I’m cheerier than I have been in a while.  Also, I got promoted at work.  Woop woop!

So, anyway.  Lets talk about embarrasing moments.  You have all read about mine here on this very blog, but I shall list my top 3 for you anyway.  Then I want to hear about yours.  Come on, its only fair since you lot have had the pleasure of laughing numberous times at my expense:

  1. Ryan Kankowski (my future sperm donor and husbank) saw me trip and fall in the middle of a shopping center over here.
  2. I accidentally excremented and overflooded my friends loo over here.
  3. In a mistaken moment, I was convinced my car was being hijacked before my very eyes over here.

Now, leave a comment for me and list your top three.  Think about it.  Even one situation. Come on, I need some attention people, I’m feeling very unloved and need a giggle.

Kthxluvyabi.

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September 8, 2008 at 7:00 pm 5 comments

Online Photography Competition

Although there have been a couple of entries, I’m surprised all you budding photographers out there have not jumped at the chance of entering Guy’s online compo.  The prizes up for grabs are fabulous, a print of your very own photo!

If you have been under a rock, you’re forgiven, but click here now to show some support in the way of comments to the photographic contestansts so far, or enter yourself – you have the rest of the month.

I’m a judge so do what I say!

September 7, 2008 at 10:16 pm 4 comments

Broken body, dorky live singing & potential hijacking in mid City

Sometimes, just sometimes, distraction of the shitty kind can work to remind you that although you think you’re at rock bottom, there’s always a few more rocks that allow you to slip just a little bit further down.

One of my brothers thought it would be funny to rugby tackle me whilst in mid  crouching pretzel, floating ostrich yoga position. Today I woke up with a sprained neck and torn back muscles. Super.  

Despite my brokeness and fleeting shrieks and wimpers, my mom demanded that I take her to a shopping heaven in the middle of the city. Even Glenda the GPS didn’t know how to get us there, which meant we were stuck in West street, Durban Central, in the middle of what seemed like a taxi war, a competition between pedestrians to see who could piss me off the most and a situation where we were the only white faces among a million black faces who all looked at us like we were circus clowns in a strip joint. We must have had our ‘begging to be robbed by city slicker gangster dudes’ faces on because, damn. If I didn’t wield my pepper spray and my mom hadn’t waved around her hair scissors (don’t ask) I can almost guarantee there would have been a mugging.

After it took me an hour to get from one set of robots to another, I eventually got us to Everlasting, the heavenly shop of our desire. Inside, we only had to contend with toothless security guards, metal gates and a line to the tills about a mile long.

In search of food on the way home, hours later, I was out voted when I suggested we stop to fill up my car. “Just wait til we get back to your neighbourhood,” they said, “its (the petrol needle) nowhere near the red,” they said. Needless to say, five metres later I ran out of petrol. Right in the middle of the road. Holding up traffic. My neck was sore, also my back. Then I ran out of smokes. Had to wait for my sister to come save us with a jerry can of vehicular goodness.

So, to recap: I had been driving around for over two hours on an empty stomach, my back and neck were killing me but my mom conveniently lost the ability to drive as she didn’t “know the area and was nervous” so I looked like an ostrich with the angles I was sitting at, I ran out of petrol in the middle of the road, holding up traffic and everything, without smokes, on the weekend of my deceased daughters birthday. Fucking super.

Anyway, when I was eventually saved a million years later, back at my brothers place I was fed anti-inflammatory drugs, poured coke and given a bean bag to prop myself up with on the couch. Once the medication had kicked in we chilled out some more over wine and Eric Clapton, who happened to be in the CD player randomly and also played at Kiera’s funeral. We thought it was an ironic coincidence and left him to be listened to in the background.

Saturday afternoon had us watching the rugga at Dros, which is very nice by the way. Particularly their upstairs area or the balcony outside that looks out onto the water fountain. Dros was followed by Mimo’s pizza and a live singer in the courtyard who I mentally willed to fall into the water feature or pond. What a cheeseball. He did try serenade my sister to her horror and our absolute sardonic delight.

All in all, a good ending to a very predictably bad day. Tomorrow will have us at the motor cross track with the boys bikes kicking up some dust and me hopefully not hurting my body any more than it is already.

September 6, 2008 at 10:52 pm 2 comments

A face to Kiera

A wise friend of mine said something to me yesterday. I was battling with the idea of having the weekend dedicated to acknowledge Kiera’s birthday. It made me feel weird and the whole concept seemed a bit pointless, to be honest. But then he said something that made it a little bit easier to digest:

“Thousands of years later people still celebrate Jesus’ birthday, Sheena. That only happens with special people. You should change your mind set.” Not that he was comparing her to Jesus, he meant that it w– ag man, you know what I mean. Don’t be so flipping touchy!

Thank you for all your messages, comments, emails and tweets. I don’t know if this is weird exactly, but it’s certainly a new thing for me, I’ve put together a few of my favourite pictures of Kiera. They represent a couple of memories I have. I am not one of those people who whip out photos and show people loved ones, but I figured after years of you listening to me talk about Kiera and her life and death, it would be only fair for you to at least have an idea of what she looked like.

They aren’t the best quality, I’ve taken a photo of the original photo, but here’s a break down.

Kiera in the pram:

She used to love the TV. Isidingo was her favourite show, I’m pretty sure she had no idea what was going on, but it used to be the only South African program we watched, so she must have liked the accents or something. I remember once when my step dad tried to change the channel she threw such a tantrum he eventually ended up putting Isidingo back on and she grinned like a brat who just beat the school bully for the toy. It wasn’t that it was just any old TV program, she liked that particular one.

Mowgli Smile:

Is what Britt and I nick named Kiera’s grin. It was always lopsided, just like the character from Jungle Book. She smiled often, which is amazing considering she breathed the equivalent of 20 people’s breaths in one hour. She still had enough energy after all that hard work to smile at me.

Me holding Kiera:

This photo was taken at 3am in the morning. My mom used to wake up and we’d have coffee in the middle of the night because that was when Kiera would be wide awake from her 12pm medication. We would be entertained for ages by her giggles and grins in between drinking her milk and trying to pull the pipes out of her nose to suck on them. It frustrated me no end, because although it amused her, I would just about have a bloody heart attack as the oxygen would go everywhere but into her lungs, thus turning her lips blue

September 4, 2008 at 10:21 pm 8 comments

I hate September

Please click this link to open up into another window, turn up the sound, then come back here and read.

—– Okay, are you ready to see into my current state of mind?——-

I know it’s been rather dull around this corner lately, but I can’t help it.

I would usually say, hey – bring on Friday, but this weekend I have nothing to look forward but for the fact that my family will be celebrating what would have been my daughters fifth birthday.

Every year, this time particularly, I wonder at the laws of the universe and life. I ponder on the reasoning whoever’s god had when he kept me here instead of my little baby girl. I wonder why she had to die after the roller coaster ride of her short lifetime battle of illness. Other premature babies survived, normal babies got over pneumonia. Why was I lead to believe that she had overcome the worst and right before being declared healthy she suddenly developed pneumonia and died?
Why?
Just after I’d finally taken her home from hospital?
Just after I’d accepted that my fate on earth was to be a mother to Kiera?
Just after I was okay with not going out with my other 18 year old friends because I had to feed my child and make sure her oxygen levels were monitored correctly, or that her SATs were normal and that her heart was beating or her apnea mat wasn’t beeping because she’d forgotten to breathe again, why?

I know that it’s easy to say “it was her time” but when I think about it, who makes the decisions on these things? And, for that matter, who the fuck makes up shit cliché sayings like “it was her time” anyway? I want to get hold of that person and attack their loose tongue and thoughtless empty words.

It’s been too long now for me to say that I miss Kiera – I’ve grown used to not having her around. What I can’t get used to is the maternal person I still have inside me, five years down the line. And I can’t get used to the empty memories of motherhood that attack me every so often. I can’t ignore the fact that for so long after she died my body still responded to her feeding schedule or that the pills I was given to stop the lactation didn’t work.

I can’t forgive the mother in me who still reaches out to every child that crosses my path and asks my brain “what if this was your child, your responsibility, your life’s path, what would you do differently? What kind of parent would you be? Don’t you wish you were back there again?” Yes, bitch, I do. I want it more than anything in the world to be a mother again. To Kiera, to any child. It is the only thing I was ever really good at. I hate this mother inside of me. She pops up out of nowhere and reminds me that I’m not an average 24 year old.

This unwelcome, horrible bitch of a mother forces me to be grounded and responsible when all I really want to do is go wild, forget where I’ve been and what I’ve done. I want to ignore the promise to my daughter of being a better person and I want to remember what the meaning of irresponsibility means.

I want to be 18 again and start my adult life all over. I want to forget that mother in me. I want to be able to ignore the pain inside my heart every time I think about how I should have a five year old running around screaming for toys and refusing to bath. I want to forget the month September ever existed in my life.

The pain really isn’t worth all these images that overtake me in September. I want to forget. Please, let me forget September.

September 3, 2008 at 8:23 pm 10 comments

Changes

Will be a lot quiter online from now on. A shift at work will have me busier than usual (good shift, not bad) and also EVERYTHING but banking and google programs has been banned at work. Joy.

I’ll be reading you still. Expect emails instead of comments. My blog will be updated at night too, so don’t panic if you come here in the morning and nothing new is up.

Ok cool. Back to my cave, I go.

September 3, 2008 at 7:21 am 5 comments

In which I beg the support of my readers

Right. Needing your support.  Show me you love me by voting over here on Parenthesis, just by leaving a comment saying you like my story.

Dudes, read the story. Its not for everyone and is rather dark and horrible, but by god it was interesting to write.

Spank you, monkeys 🙂

Kiera would have been 5 this week.  Nothing much else to tell you really.

September 2, 2008 at 8:29 am 2 comments

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Are you a photographer? Do you think you could stand a chance of winning? Why not try your luck, you've nothing to lose! I've been asked to be one of 5 judges in Just South Africa's photography contest. I hope to see your entries there!

Sadly, I've been told money, chocolates and free internet are not allowed to affect my judging unbiased opinion. You could try anyway though... Kidding. Relax.