Thoughts and things

Yikes. You would think being excessively emotional would come with a keen hand and a mind teeming with creative ideas. But it's the complete opposite. Coming up with a suitable topic for a blogpost has proved particularly difficult since I decided to start writing again. 

Why not just take a break from it all, I say? Am currently coming up with cunning courses of action to escape for a short time and have shortlisted the following options. Some of them rational, well-thought-out realistic plans, some of them... well, not quite so much:

• Depart for the romantic city of Florence and take it upon myself to complete a TEFL course. Then teach English to little bambinis and big tasty passionate desirable Italiano businessmen in Rome, and while away my evenings visiting the sites, trawling the cobbled streets eating tubs of Italian ice cream, and inhaling pasta. I have a friend who wants to join me – this is great news as it means someone to share my pizzas with. At least we can get fat together.

• Get a job on the US's Disney Cruise Ship as a Disney character lookalike. I wouldn't quite make the cut for Rapunzel for a number of reasons: I don't like small spaces so a tower definitely wouldn't do; my blonde hair stubbornly refuses to grow any further than mid breast, at which point it begins to fray so wouldn't be near strong enough for my prince to cling on to anyway; it is about an 11th of the thickness of Rapunzel's and not quite as golden. So am thinking: me as Sleeping Beauty (except with a tan), strolling around deck gracefully in a blue gown and dazzling princess crown, flushed cheeks, red lips, singing to bluebirds and talking to owls etc etc

• Go waste away on a remote island in the Mediterranean, work behind a bar in hot pants and a bikini top and a striking tan, whipping up creamy pina coladas and eating olives, until a young, brave and dashing Australian/Irishman/Kiwi/Canadian sweeps me off my feet and takes me home with them to live in the lap of luxury.

• Go live at home (in Joburg). Actually... I'd rather stay here... (There are no good images of Joburg that don't contains guns, knives and robbers.)

• Teach dancing in London, live off Heinz tomato soup and Starbucks frappucinos, and couch surf for a few months until I've exhausted my options, or have lost all my friends... 

• Sell my car and depart for India. And do... I don't quite know what. Eat samoosas, do yoga, wear saris and a bindi and learn to bob my head.

• Take a French course in Montepellier and ride to class every morning on a red bicycle adorned with strings of garlic, a basket of fresh baguets, myself in a beret and floral dress chanting 'Au Clair de la Lune' and drink wines with rude Frenchmen in the evenings in the vineyards. And waitressing at un petit cafe serving cafe au lait in order to afford all of this, of course... until I get bored and long for Vida muffins and Caturra freezocinos and Hunters Dry and Table Mountain.

Er, I think that's about it. But on the other hand I heart my job, I heart my friends, my dancing and Cape Town's scenic, magical, unparalleled beauty and all it has to offer... like freezocinos. And Hunters Dry. And the promenade. And weather like today! So if something's going to pull me away from it all, it's got to be good!!

Everybody's shuffling...

I'm sorry I've been out of action. Am slowly pulling up my woolly winter socks and attempting to integrate back into society. So much so that I even braved the infamous, and positively ghastly 1st-year-haunt Tiger Tiger on Friday night. I drowned my self-pitying sorrows and 10 minutes in you could find me atop a large speaker in leopard-print stilettos performing a series of pouts as I 'shuffled' to 'Party Rockers' aside a gorgeous, slim coloured girl (whose smooth rhythmic moves made mine look like an allergic reaction) who kept telling me to 'go lower'! Any lower and I would've been sitting! I was practically in a squat position, which caused the bouncer to politely tap me on the shoulder and point out the bathroom. As I attempted to gesture a 'No, I'm ok, thanks' I managed to somehow lose grip on my Hunter's Dry, which flung forcefully into his brick-wall chest and shatter to the carpet (seriously). At that point I thought it best to leap off the speaker and scramble away into the hoard of inebriated fellow clubbers. 

As proof of 'how low I could go' on that damn speaker, I woke up to searing quad pain on Saturday morning. At least it took the focus away from my headache.

As I proceeded to voice my woes that morning and decide that I would not get out of bed today, or any day, ever again, I was dragged to The Biscuit Mill by a friend, apparently our new dude-spotting local. Dude spotting?! I was already seeing spots. So I pushed past the dudes and got me a fat pizza and a glass of Champagne to ease me into the afternoon.

The weekend carried on in a similar pattern. When you're going through a tough time, I've found Champagne is the best solution (and a freezocino as the non-alcoholic option. But who would opt for that?). As is (and I have never believed this before) hot chocolate, 'Friends' (the series), carbohydrates, hot chocolate, carbohydrates…

 And dancing off course... So here is my quote for the day. There are so many amazing studios around Cape Town. Just ask me! Find one you love and take some classes. It's the hidden language of the soul. (Yes, even if you're just doing it on a Tiger Tiger speaker!)

"There are short-cuts to happiness... Dancing is one of them" – Vicki Baum