I love you...but...

So if you love someone – you should never try and change them. I’ve always been a big believer in this... trying to change someone you love calls into question whether you actually love them at all.

But I’m starting to find that it’s a little difficult to put into practice.

As I’ve voiced fairly excessively, I’m head over heels for FD. One of the reasons I’m nuts about him is his wild and adventurous ways. I’ve got my own Camel man and it’s quite fabulous. But he has this undeniably need to do incredibly crazy things. While the rest of the world scuba dives, FD free dives; while the rest of the world swims in rock pools, he’s diving head first off the bridge above it and while the rest of the world skydives, FD base jumps (not yet, but definitely on the cards).

He has huge dreams about summiting the world’s highest peaks – including one called Annapurna – where 1 out 3 mountaineers die in the process.

All of this is so much a part of him... but also leaves me feeling so unsettled – where does a little Sandton chick fit in with all of this?

On one hand it’s made me question my priorities, my attachments, all the things that I’ve thought were so important in my life and I’ve realised I don’t need most of it to be happy. But having said that – there’s no way I’ll be standing next to FD as he digs his snow cave for the night as we climb the world’s highest mountains. I’ll climb up a rock face at Hartebeespoort Dam once a week and I’ll even enjoy it, but that’s quite a different thing.

So where do we meet? I can’t change him, and he can’t change me... but will this eventually lead to one of us resenting the other as we compromise on what we want? I really hope not.

It's been a while...

Oops.I’ve been quiet. This is not on account of a cleaning/lasagne cooking/jersey knitting domestification spree – as you might have guessed from the previous post. It’s really just on account of not being able to face a computer screen at the end a spate of overworkedness. (Apparently since I’ve returned I’ve begun to enjoy making up words).

But other than the craziness of the working day – life has been good.Here’s what’s happened in the past two months:

• I went to Mauritius for a holiday with FD. The place is heaven on earth. I could live there. I don’t usually wonder what it would be like to live in a country I visit, but this time we were staying in FD’s cousin’s house – so it made me imagine what it would be like to call Mauritius home. We met quite a few South Africans that live in the area. I’ve never felt so insanely jealous over some else’s lifestyle, as I felt then.
• I’ve climbed two 17s... only climbers aka Miss M will appreciate this fact, but I’m pretty proud of it. I’ve also blown my budget on climbing shoes and a harness. But they are both super flash and I’m loving them. (Even though the shoes make my feet orange)
• I’ve got someone reporting to me at work, for the first time ever. I don’t know that I’m boss material.
• I went to Coke Fest... ugh... hated it. Left after Good Charlotte. Of course everyone I know says the concert only got good after that point, but I don’t believe them.
• I’ve begun planning a trip to Namibia – woohoo!
• I’m pretty keen to move to Cape Town. FD and I have set a deadline of two years to make the move.
• I’m still insanely-besottedly-head-over-heels-can’t-see-straight-crazy-in-love with FD.
  

So apparently I haven’t been up to much at all! Anyways – this was just a quick catch up post to say...

I’m back!

The Domestification of MsMozi

Something weird is going on… I’ve turned into Martha Stewart.

I made a lasagne from scratch on Tuesday night. I’ve never attempted anything of the sort in my entire life. I was one step away from pounding eggs and flour together and making my own pasta sheets.

It all began after returning from Phase III and IV of the December road trip (which I didn’t get around to blogging about). It seems that something about staying in tents and backpackers and living off 2 minute noodles and other items that require no refrigeration for a week made me crave domestication.

My dishes are always gleaming and surfaces are scrubbed clean with intense determination.

It’s extremely out of character and making me uneasy.

The first time my mother gave me dishes to dry… (note, I didn’t even have to wash them) I kept pretending to ‘accidentally’ drop them so that she wouldn't ask me to do it anymore. And with regard to cooking, if the preparation required anything more than ‘remove packaging and peel off plastic sleeve’ – I wasn’t interested.

Am I growing up?

I'm it!

I was tagged by Phillygirl to do a list of 50 things about myself, so here goes...

1. I’m a dog person – especially the tiny, fluffy rat-like kind. Not really the Tinkerbell sort – but my heart turns into warm gooey melted chocolate at the sight of a Yorkshire Terrier.

2. I adore reality television, especially Bachelor-esque ones, I get indescribable joy at watching the claws come out and the snot en trane that accompanies it.

3. Until recently I was a serial monogamist. I went straight from one long term relationship into another until Italian Ex Boyfriend and I broke up and I stayed single for over year before meeting FD.

4. I’ve got a recipe book addiction. I hardly ever cook anything out of them but I love flipping through the pages.

5. I have an extra rib. I didn’t know about it until I put my neck out from sleeping in awkward positions in the bus on a Contiki tour. We had a chiropractor on the tour with us (pretty good luck that was) and when she popped my vertebra back in she pointed out that I had an extra rib where my neck meets my shoulder – apparently it’s pretty common. I still think it sounds pretty weird.

6. I don’t like spa treatments. Yet people always seem to think a spa voucher is the perfect gift – when Italian Ex Boyfriend gave me one for my birthday I knew the relationship was over.

7. I’m not particularly keen on chocolate. Every once in a blue moon I’ll have a craving but a tiny piece is enough to satisfy me for ages after that.

8. I adore epic, fantasy movies… Lord of the Rings, 300 – totally my cup of tea.

9. I’m also a total sci-fi geek. I have Season 1 – 3 of Battlestar Galactica on DVD. I blame my brother – he’s 10 years older than me so I was watching Star Wars from birth.

10. There are certain childhood experiences I completely missed out on. I never watched Mary Poppins, and I’ve never eaten Jungle Oats or Pro Nutro.

11. I don’t like weddings. I like the idea of marriage – but if eventually I could totally skip the wedding part and go on a magical honeymoon instead I’d be a happy camper.

12. It takes a lot to stress me out… no matter how much work demands of me, I’ll usually just switch off before I get stressed. Only strained relationships between friends, family and lovers stress me out.

13. I hate fleamarkets. As soon as I set a foot in one I want to run screaming for the exit.

14. I love musical theatre – I was raised on The Rocky Horror Picture Show and I have a total weakness for Andrew Lloyd Webber productions like Cats, Phantom of the Opera and Jesus Christ Superstar.

15. My family are Jewish – my immediate family (with the exception of my brother) are all non-practicing. I have no interest in it whatsoever. I’ve also never dated a Jewish boy and have no Jewish friends. My mother still has the Jewish insatiable need to feed people though. FD digs it.

16. I could eat sushi every day of my life and never get bored of it.

17. The same goes for most Asian cuisine – especially Thai and Chinese.

18. I want to love scuba diving but I just don’t. I can’t understand it because I love the ocean and have always been a water baby but there’s something about scuba diving that freaks the crap out of me.

19. I used to believe that I should expect the worst and be pleasantly surprised when things go right. Now I always hope for the best and brave the disappointment when things don’t go as planned.

20. I adore making lists. I make lists for everything. It may be a way of procrastinating to avoid the actual task at hand, but it’s compulsive and out of my control.

21. If Ashton Kutcher lived in South Africa I would become a proper stalker – seriously, the restraining order kind.

22. I always reply to emails and hardly ever reply to smses.

23. I tend to forgive and forget far too easily.

24. I can spend vast amounts of time in my own company and never get bored. Having a much older brother meant that I needed to learn how to entertain myself as a child and I’m glad to have that skill later in life. Until I met FD I craved loads of alone time, but now I find I can still maintain my Zenlike-state with him around.
25. Along with rest of my generation as a result of the movie ‘It’ I have an irrational fear of clowns. I also have chiroptophobia, a fear of bats. I don’t understand their purpose in this world.

26. I’ve never bought lettuce from a green grocer in my entire life. The idea of picking it apart, washing it and possibly coming across a worm completely freaks me out. I will only buy it pre-washed in a packet from Woolworths.

27. I used to have a massive complex about my height – I’m about 5’3 which isn’t even excessively short compared with other women – but I used to refuse to wear flat shoes until about five years ago.

28. I can tap dance… I can also do modern and hip hop… pole dancing is next.

29. I have a small Taurus symbol tattooed onto my lower back.

30. My favourite indulgence has become freshly brewed imported coffee made with a plunger – usually brought to my bedside by FD.

31. I think I enjoy horror movies but I actually hate them. When ever I go and watch one I end up hiding behind my popcorn box the entire time.

32. I can’t have a room mate – when The Ron moved in for a couple of weeks I nearly killed him in cold blood.

33. I can play the guitar – an ex taught me the basics and after we broke up I carried on teaching myself. I can only play cheesy drunken sing along tunes but I love it.

34. I love watching rugby live or on TV. I don’t feel the same way about cricket.

35. I have a book where I write down all sentimental smses that I can’t bear to delete forever – I’ve been doing it for about five years now and its almost turned into a bit of a diary documenting relationships as they take their course.

36. I used to be a hoarder but now I’m a compulsive thrower-awayer… all sorts of vital documents have hit the bin since.

37. I don’t like cocktails. Except for mojitos. And pina coladas. And daquiris. And caparinhas. Okay, apparently I do like cocktails.

38. I think Elvis is fabulous. So is Oprah.

39. People used to say I spoke with a posh accent after I left high school as a result of my snooty private school education. Fortunately I now speak like the rest of the country.

40. I won’t eat game meat. I also won’t eat veal. I do, however, eat lamb. Apparently in my head baby cows don’t deserve to die but baby sheep do. I try not to think about it too much.

41. I haven’t smoked a cigarette in four and a half months. I still crave one every once in a while though.

42. I think gerbers are just the prettiest flowers in the world. And jasmine smells the best.

43. My maternal instinct hasn’t really kicked in yet. The only kid I really love is my nephew. I’m hoping when I eventually have my own something will kick into gear.

44. I think the Red Hot Chili Peppers are demi-gods.

45. I really wish I wasn’t fascinated by the Hollywood antics splashed across the pages of Heat magazine – but I am.

46. I can only read trashy novels when on holiday… either rubbishy chick lit or gruesome, nail biting crime thrillers.

47. I have two t-shirts with Madiba’s face on, another with a map of Africa and yet another with Jozi’s skyline – I wear my patriotism with pride.

48. I’m allergic to the nickel found in metal – which means I can’t wear jewellery unless it’s platinum or gold.

49. I’ll share anything, except popcorn in a movie.

50. I’m going to Mauritius next week – woohoo!

Money, money, money!

This subject is a bit taboo – but it’s something I’ve been noticing a little more prominently than ever before.

The media industry isn’t exactly known for its fat pay cheques – people do it because they enjoy it – and not for the bank balance it promises at the end of the working day. The majority of my friends are in similar industries and we’re all pretty much in the same tax bracket.

But recently The Fugitive was in town and on her final night her friends wanted to have dinner together to bid her farewell. One of her friends, who’s roughly my age but excessively wealthy with a vast array of political links, decided that a simple braai wouldn’t do – so he flicked out his Blackberry and speed dialled Pigalle Restaurant in Sandton and booked a table. And this irked me a little. Pigalle, with an average price of about R120 per main course, is completely beyond the budget of almost every single one of her friends. But with this being her farewell – we all wanted to go to say goodbye.

R300 and a barely full stomach later – I was definitely annoyed. And this was further exacerbated by the fact that the boy that made the booking ended up joining us only for coffee afterwards.

And this past weekend it almost happened again. It had been one of those weekends where FD and I kept on eating out and by Saturday evening we didn’t really feel like spending loads of cash all over again. We met up with The Ron and his girlfriend for drinks, which turned into dinner at another fairly expensive restaurant. FD and I weren’t that hungry, and didn’t feel like splashing out for a pricey meal, so we just went for some of the cheaper items on the menu, while the others went for seafood and steaks. A little later, when the bill came, they suggested we split it four ways. Now how on earth can a person broach the subject of not finding the suggestion fair without looking cheap?

Joburg is a pretty materialistic city – those with cash flaunt it and those without it try to do everything they can to keep up appearances. But I’m really not keen to play that game. In my case, and FDs, it doesn’t even really come down to not being able to afford expensive restaurants – as we both have minimal living expenses – so most of the cash we earn is for us to spend with free abandon – but I’m not that keen to blow it all on pretentious restaurants.

And on this subject – restaurants have officially gone bonkers – when did it become okay to charge, on average, between R70 and R90 for a really average main meal? A cocktail alone at Espressos in Parkhurst will set you back R35, and a glass of crappy house wine at Moyos around R40. It’s not a matter of being able to afford it - it’s an issue of not being okay with being blatantly ripped off.

Guess who's moving in!

Almost four years ago I fled the sanctuary of my parents home – and decided to make a go of it alone living in my own apartment. It’s been Blissful. Liberating. Fabulous.

While it lasted.

My parents, with chronic empty nest syndrome decided that since I wasn’t going to be moving back in with them – that they’d just move in with me instead.

So on Wednesday morning my parents moved into their newly purchased apartment – in the same complex as mine.

I’ve given this a lot of thought and devised a list of pros and cons.

Pros:

- Daily free laundry service.
- Daily free meals – whenever needed.
- Grocery shopping will no longer take place at Woolworths – it was take place simply by opening my parents’ refrigerator and pantry.
- 24 hour TLC when I’m sick.
- Not having to drive anywhere for a catch-up session with my folks.

Cons:

- My father learning that FD sleeps over on average 5 nights a week as he sees FD’s little car parked neatly next to his in the parking lot (even on school nights! Yikes!)
- Lying about not being able to see them on account of other plans will become impossible.
- So far the only people that have gotten a free meal out of the new living arrangements are my parents.
- They can now nag at any time, without even picking up a phone
- Having to make sure that my apartment is devoid of any signs of corruptness (condoms, empty wine bottles, underwear strewn across bedroom floor) at all times as they both have keys and around the clock access.

It’s going to be interesting.

Is the same old thing always a bad thing?

When FD stays over on a week night – certain events unfold every morning.

My alarm goes off at 06h30 – I let out a little groan of protest, roll over giving FD a quick kiss before climbing out of bed and hitting the shower. I then get dressed, collect my hairdryer and hair straightner from my room where FD is still blissfully snoozing and take it to the lounge where I can make noise with free abandon. By then it’s about 07h00 - I gently wake up FD and we both go to the kitchen where he makes us fancy coffee with one of those coffee plunger thingums, and I make us muesli and yoghurt. We then take everything through to the lounge where I glance through the headlines on News24 on DSTV, wishing for some natural disaster that will stop me from going to work, before switching between VH1 and MTV which FD and I watch while ripping apart all the cheesy music videos until we have to go to work.

I’ve never thought about it much… until this morning. I had just put FD’s bowl of muesli in front of him when he jokingly said: “We’re like an old married couple with our morning routine”.

My heart skipped a beat. If there’s one thing that makes me freak out – it’s falling into a rut. In my head – the next step is the loss of passion, complete boredom, taking each other for granted and so on…

But is there a difference between falling into a routine and falling into a rut? The more I think about it, the more I realise that it’s impossible to not fall into some kind of routine when you spend a lot of time with someone. Is there such a thing as a good routine or is it always a bad thing?

Perhaps a rut is an inescapable routine – something that you want to break but don’t feel like you can – while a good routine can leave people feeling loved and secure.

Any thoughts?