Pages

Friday, 28 March 2014

I am so glad I am not a Christian at times.

I know that is not a very kind thing to say, but I really mean it. I know that not all Christians are the same and I do not paint all with the same brush. But the fact that there is even an issue with homosexuality at all within Christianity (and other religions and cultures too)  makes me relieved that I do not have to carry that burden of whether or not to discriminate against someone, judge someone, just because they are different from the majority. It is not a mental process I ever have to go through.

I am glad I am not a Christian because I do not have to worry about sin, and what is and is not a sin. To me there is no such thing. I only have to worry about actions that harm, actions that help, and actions that are neutral. Love or sex between any two consenting adults does no harm. Discrimination and judging harms others. And yet many Christians think that they actually have to decide whether to discriminate or not. As if there should even be a choice in that regard?

I am glad I am not a Christian because I do not have to try and adapt my life to words in a book about an ancient society. I am able to adapt my life to modern discoveries, modern progress in thought about women, racial difference, and relationships. Christians must try at all costs to force life to fit the words of a book, even when the book tells them to go against their instincts of what is right, and what is obviously wrong (discrimination, shunning, judgement). Or they must reject at least part of what the book says, which I am sure is a painful thing in itself. I can only imagine the mental tug-of-war that so many Christians must endure in this regard.

I have been surrounded my whole life by the idea that Christians have the monopoly on morality. If you are Christian you are good, or trying to be good, and that is by definition better than not being a Christian. Today whenever I tell some Christians that I am a non-believer, they immediately try to convince me that being a Christian is better. That I will change my mind, that I must. One day I will rejoin the group of people who are doing the right thing.

 I would never dream of trying to convince them of the opposite. I am happy to just let them believe whatever they want (so long as they are not harming others! Or themselves). But there is an assumed hierarchy of people and people who go to church automatically win the upper hand. I still find myself assuming that Christians are better than me, it is just such a prevalent attitude.

And yet look at what their religion forces them to do - to treat others cruelly. Or to at least make decisions about treating someone cruelly or not. Trying to look "past their sin". Trying to reconcile the words in the book with what is so blatantly obvious.

Not allowing someone to work somewhere because of what goes on in the privacy of their own home is wrong. Christian companies have no idea what their straight employees may be doing at home - abuse, drugs, cruelty, daily gluttony, deeply coveting their neighbour's shiny new ox? Who knows? So long as a person can do a job well, a company has no business knowing anything about a person's home life, unless a crime has been committed or unless it affects the situation at work. How can it be ok to allow other "sinners" to work in  a place but exclude "sinners" of one particular kind only?

How can any Christian think homosexuality is a choice, when gay and lesbian people are legally excluded from work places, excluded from some churches, arrested in some countries, put to death (there was a very recent murder in SA where a young gay man was beaten to death - does homosexuality trump murder as a sin?), rejected by parents and friends, left suicidal and ashamed. Who would possibly willingly choose such a path?

I know many wonderful Christian people who do wonderful things, but I am glad I am not one so that I do not even have to entertain the slightest shadow of a doubt as to what is right and what is wrong when it comes to discrimination of people who love others of the same sex.

We all do things that harm or help ourselves, others and the environment, We should all try hard to avoid the harmful type of things. I am not trying to say I am better than any Christian. I do bad things, I am a "sinner". I am just glad I do not have to carry this confusing burden that so many Christians must carry. It is far too heavy and causes frightening, untold harm.

I am sorry if this sounds judgmental. It is, if you consider I am judging that discrimination is wrong. I do make that judgement.  I am just shocked that this is an issue at all. And so saddened for those that are discriminated against and those that discriminate. It hurts everyone involved.

Wednesday, 26 March 2014

Celebrity divorce

When I heard that Gwyneth Paltrow and Chris Martin are going to divorce, or consciously uncouple, if they must call it that, the wave of divorce sadness hit me again. Does everyone get divorced? And particularly, why do almost all famous people end up getting divorced?

I actually feel sorry for famous people. It seems that there is this modern myth that we can have everything, awesome career, good relationship and happy kids, and famous people always seem to be the epitome of this expectation. Poor things. They have so much money, it is almost their duty to be happier and more successful in all of the things than we are. I think celebrities are victims of very unrealistic expectations, but to some degree, we all are.


But it is a lie and it is a lie for all of us. You cannot have everything, there has to be compromise. You CAN have a compromised version of everything, yes.

Famous people generally get famous by having an awesome career. Long after they have made more money than they will ever need, they still pursue their careers, I assume because it fulfills them, at least I hope that is the reason. But in order to have a good relationship, you have to sacrifice some career stuff. You have to give your partner time. Lots of it. If your career takes up too much time you have to say no to stuff. You cannot keep pursuing that career and not expect it to have consequences in other aspects of life. It doesn't mean quitting, necessarily. Just cutting down.

So I guess we all have to really decide what is important to us and then compromise. Extra money really does not buy you out of this equation.

I know for sure that my relationship is more important than any job I could have. I have never been a career-oriented person. I tried to be one for a while, or thought I should be. But my relationship will always come first in my life. I suppose that makes it easier for me because it does not feel like there is any sacrifice I need to make in terms of work life at all.

Freaking divorce! You are everywhere. Stay away.

Thursday, 20 March 2014

Random life stuffs.

G and I bought a flat in Cape Town! Well, G did. As a student I cannot really make any contribution to a bond. It seems awfully grown up and scary, but then, he is 38. Everyone has to grow up sometime, right? Actually, no, owning  a place is not necessary for grownup life at all, much as we are conned into thinking that. And I even question the financial sense of why everyone does this now that I know how much freaking money you spend in the process, and how little you make as profit when you sell? There must be a reason...

On that subject we also bought our first ever couch. Hilarious. They are expensive too. People keep asking how we survived without a couch but the truth is, we are not very sociable and when we had people round in our tiny granny flat in England people sat on the floor or a chair or the bed. 

When I say we bought a flat, it is not actually ours yet. We agreed to buy in September. And the lawyers have still not come through with the final paperwork! A friend of ours signed to buy in December and had his place by the end of Jan. How is it possible that we are still waiting? We are renting the place that is supposed to be ours. Most useless lawyers ever.

Real estate is heartbreakingly expensive in Cape Town. I sometimes browse the property pages for other cities to make myself sad.  I am not sure we could ever afford to buy  a house in this city, at least not in the central areas. 

I am hating every minute of every day of my Masters. It is sad to admit, but I dream every day of quitting. I have major homesickness for my previous work place. I have tried for months to convince myself that I am overreacting, but I am just unhappy with so many aspects of the supervision that I have that I can't move past my dissatisfaction. I wonder if I will be able to hang in and finish it? I spend all night dreaming about how I will quit with minimum drama and accusation, but at the same time make my issues heard. I feel like a quitter these days. Do I quit everything? At the same time, misery is not healthy and I would be much better off without this level of unhappiness and stress. Who knows what will happen. Every day I try to hang on a little longer, mostly because I am completely averse to drama and unpleasantness.

I have been in Johannesburg for two months, living on an active building site with jackhammering and drilling day and night, and missing my G like crazy. The only way for me to finish the work my supervisors want me to do is to work day and night without cooking breaks. G has started to decorate our flat without me. I feel like I am nearing the end of a long prison sentence and I cannot wait to go home. No offence to Johannesburg. I am sure you are a lovely city. I, however, will never get to see you because I am chained to a lab day and night. I did not realise you rained so much. It's a bit extreme. 

I blame the ANC.

Tuesday, 18 March 2014

Being back in South Africa is much harder than I thought.

I am finding living back in South Africa SO much harder than I ever expected. I feel that I need to communicate that, but I am scared of trying to go into the why's of it. I have a feeling that articulating it would piss a lot of people off and I have no desire for that. Not that anyone reads this blog, hello I have had a wordpress blog for years. I think the reason I have come back to blogger is because I want that anonymity again.

Anyway, even saying that I find living in South Africa hard seems wrong to me. No matter how hard it is for me, it is a million times harder for all the people living in poverty, and they don't exactly have a choice about being here or not.

And this is part of the problem. Trying to align my own struggles with those of other people in this country and still feel that I have the right to feel how I feel.

I did not realise how angry people are here. And for good reason! But the anger scares me even though I know it is fully justified. I am one of those people who is not able to block these things out, the emotions of others affects me greatly. I have always had this issue. And this is probably why I am struggling so much.

It breaks my heart that people are so angry. It breaks my heart that for many people, I am a symbol of the cause of that anger. I was naive before. I thought that people got along. And they do. They really do. But it seems to be less common than anyone could wish.

Everyone, of every culture, is very nice to me here. But there are these huge barriers that seem to prevent us from connecting. I am not used to this. England is a melting pot of every culture, and the only way to survive is to connect, instantly. It is easy for me. I have made friends with people from every culture I can imagine.

And yet in South Africa it is completely different. The barriers are there and I can't even put into words how they work. One day they might go away. Maybe? But I will be old or dead. It makes me so sad. Because I like pretty much everyone. I want to connect with people and have that easy friendship that rises above culture. And it is possible. But it is much harder than I thought. We have a lot of misconceptions about each other.

People are friendlier here, much friendlier than in the UK, so it is not all bad. But there is a general wariness that we have around each other. And the anger, it is there, so strong I cannot ignore it.

 The thing is, there is so much good actually! So much. But the bad tends to dominate my psyche. I have always been this way.

My problem is that negative emotions overwhelm me until I cannot see anything else. Other people can see the positive and live positively, but the anger that is bubbling up in this country overwhelms me, and it scares me too. I do believe this country is in for a rough ride some day. When, I do not know. (Well, for many people it is already a very rough ride indeed. Perhaps what I mean is that we could be in for something that affects privileged people badly. Will the people who are struggling now struggle more? Perhaps. I think we need to chat to Zimbabweans about whether they are better off now or before Mugabe went a bit extreme. I bet there are a wide range of opinions on that!).

At the same time, things have always worked a little differently here. We have never followed the traditional African path in terms of history and politics. Not saying this is a good or a bad thing, but South Africa has had a unique path and maybe the current anger will rouse something slightly different from the usual. Who knows?

Of course another thing I struggle with in South Africa is guilt. In Cape Town you can encounter people with difficult and sad stories every time you leave the house, multiple times a day. I know that I am lucky to be the one hearing the story rather than the one living the story. The contrasts in this country are too great. I have never considered myself wealthy. But to a person who earns R1000 a month or less, of course I am wealthy.  Shockingly wealthy. My monthly grocery bill alone comes to a lot more than R1000 I can tell you that.

And so I am both wealthy and not. In some circles I would describe myself as ok, as well-off. Once we were struggling. In other circles we are incredibly wealthy and the thought of describing my past as "struggling" in this context is a joke.

 These things, they require some mental gymnastics that are difficult to negotiate.

I always thought I was made of stronger stuff. But I am learning that my very noble thoughts about my self, others and the world very rarely translate into noble action.

And so I am struggling. And I am disappointed in myself.

Apologies to any South African who may find this offensive in some way. I mean no offence at all. I always seem to struggle with things that other people think are just plain crazy. 

Monday, 10 March 2014

Divorce is one hell of a mind-bender to me.

It's funny how I just wrote about commitment in relationships recently, and ever since then I have been thinking a lot about divorce.

A few people I know online or in real life are getting divorced. It terrifies me.

I think divorce does not terrify me if there was a problem with the relationship from the start, or if things become really bitter for whatever reason. For instance I know someone who actually broke up with the guy, found herself pregnant, they got married and had a troubled relationship for many years until they got divorced. In that case divorce seems like a kind of freedom from a bad situation.

But what really freaks me out is that I know people who have been with someone they love (loved?) deeply, for many MANY years - and suddenly after those many years something changed or happened and all of a sudden that life partner person, with whom you have extensive history, is no longer the person you want to be with.

I have heard of parents who have split up when their kids are in their late twenties. That blows my mind. All of that history an shared experience - nixed in an instant.  Did it not mean anything in the end? Or it did mean something but it is possible to move on from? Can you compartmentalise this stuff? You can see how much I am grappling to even understand how this is possible. My world would just not make sense if I did this.

This scares me so much because for me a huge part of bonding with all people is knowing someone a good length of time and shared history. I take a loooong time to warm up to people. It is an introvert thing. My brain needs to process x amount of information about a person before it feels comfortable that it knows the person, and similarly I seem to need to know someone for quite a long time before my brain feels that it is worth putting up the barriers I usually put up. After a longish time my brain says, ok, now it is worth it. This person is not just an aquaintance who will disappear. This person is going to be around and is worth putting all of your affections into. I guess all of my energy will go into that person, so my brain does not want to invest in someone who I just will not be very close to. Once time and history have been shared, I pretty much will love that person for life. No matter who you are, you are in.

I think that is why I always end up loving the people I work with so much. All of them. Because I spend so much time with them, am able to get to know them over a long time, and share a lot of history with them. I am aware how atypical this is because most people are very wary about friendships at work. I love all my colleagues and will forever! Personality clashes are not often an issue for me, as long as I have spent enought time with you!

The G man and I have shared nearly 14 years of history. If for some reason we split up - it would blow my mind. My life makes no sense without him there because we have all of that past stuff - it seems meaningless if we are not together. Does that make sense? I feel like if I lose him I will lose all of that history or at least render it senseless and empty. I can't describe how much it confuses me that people can walk away from such a long shared time and start anew. I think it is just not in my character.

I bond for life, and I mean LIFE. And yet, these divorces happen all the time. They can happen to anyone, even people like me who are convinced the person they are with is their ultimate person for life. And I also know that G is different to me and bonds in a different way - it is not so much about shared history and length of time for him. I feel that for him walking away from so many years of history would not be such a mind-bender. And that does not help my panic much either.

I think this is what they mean when they say relationships take work. Even when yours seems good it is no time to coast along and take things for granted. Ugh.

Saturday, 1 March 2014

Commitment - I get it.

It's probably my fault for having a thing about marriage and not wanting to do it, but I am getting quite tired of the questions people ask when they find out that G (whom I have to call my boyfriend for lack of another word) and I have been together for nearly 14 years.

I know that people are not meaning to be mean or tiresome, but I get asked the same thing again and again, and it puzzles me.

"Oh, so why aren't you married? Is it because you don't want the commitment?"

What part of "nearly 14 years" somehow implies a lack of commitment?! What part of waiting for nearly 2 years while he went to Antarctica, during which I never saw him, not even once, and Skype did not exist?
Please explain this to me? What really scares me is that the societal concept seems to be that you have to put your commitment down in a signed document, or it is not the real thing. It just seems so insecure to me that a commitment has to be signed and made law for it to hold.

I realised after about 4 or 5 years into my relationship what commitment really meant and how tough it actually was. It means sticking with the person even through times when they are driving you crazy and you are not feeling any love for them whatsoever. It means working through every problem you have with each other, even when leaving seems like the only option. Commitment is hard.

And it is something that many young people who get married have no idea about at all. I have heard stories of ladies who are now divorced who still say that their wedding day was the best day of their lives. Because it was all about them, because they got to be a princess for a day. Because romance as an ideal was being fulfilled. Not because of the unglamorous commitment part and what it really means.

 I totally understand that I am in a tiny minority of people who actually do not want a wedding and a legal contract (or a religious one) and that is why people get so confused. But our relationship is exactly the same as one with a certificate. Until death or divorce (unofficial in our case) do us part. I am working really hard towards having "death" (hopefully in the very distant future) as that ending. The same as anyone else. Commitment is everything to me.

Why does a contract make such a big difference? Why is it difficult for people to respect my relationship as the real thing? Why does G's family insist on calling me his fiance in public as if I am some embarrassment that they need to hide behind one of the safe labels we use?

My relationship is the real deal.

Thursday, 19 December 2013

I was nine years old

I have read countless blog posts and news articles reminiscing about Nelson Mandela these last few weeks. So many of them begin "I was 9/10/21 etc when Mandela was released from jail". It is as if we are all compelled to put down our memories of the historical moments involving this man, even those of us (especially us white people) who were completely removed from the strife of Apartheid and what was really going on in the country. Those of us who lived in a safe, ignorant bubble and knew nothing of tanks and police states and had not even heard the name Mandela.

No matter how tedious these memories may sound to an outsider, I think we feel compelled to write them because Mandela truly moved so many of us, in a deep and personal way. He inspired many of us to see a rare but remarkable side to human nature, one rarely seen but made manifest. And because of that, we want to lock ourselves into this history, so that we never forget what he made us feel and what he did.

So here are my utterly self-indulgent memories of the historical moments surrounding Madiba, that I cling to fiercely in order to remember the rare and remarkable way in which he walked through this world.

I was 9 years old when Mandela was released from prison. There, I said it. Apartheid was a distant idea to me. I had spent 6 of the first 7 years of my life in Botswana, where black and white kids went to the same schools. When we came back to South Africa, my dad told me in passing that in the past black people would have not been allowed to walk on the same pavement as us and that everything from benches to beaches were segregated. We lived such a sheltered life in our white suburb, I had no idea of the violence our country was experiencing.

Mandela's release did have an impact on me, but not one of any political inspiration or personal reflection. We had gathered on the day of his release at the house of family friends in a kind of getting out of jail lunch party, and we clustered around the tv for what seemed an agonisingly long wait, and for what? To see a man walk out of jail? It befuddled me. Why would the world stop to watch a man walking out of jail? We did not regularly convene to watch people get out of jail, and I was sure it happened every day. I could not understand the fuss at all. I do not remember if we stayed to watch his speech, I doubt it because it was hours later and went on for a long time. My overall impression of Mandela's speeches was that they were terribly boring. That makes me laugh now, because what he was saying was not boring at all, but he did follow that old-fashioned politician style of speaking forever. I remember feeling challenged by his accent, and proud that I could understand him. I was also not entirely sure that he was a black man - his skin seemed paler than I expected.

I remember at that age joining Brownies and being taught to draw the old South African flag. It seemed an entirely impossible task. I am very relieved that it was replaced and I did not ever have to remember how to draw it.

I also remember the year schools opened to people of all races. I was 10. Things moved quickly once Mandela was out of jail. Not that they changed overnight. But people always wanted to photograph us kids - white and Indian hanging out together - even today kids of different races playing together is a big deal in this country. We just wanted to be left alone, it seemed fake to make a big deal about it. It made something big and self-conscious out of something we were still sounding out ourselves.

I remember the election in 1994. I have written about this before. I was 13. What a disappointing cadre I was. We had been given a week off school, because ever since Mandela put a toe out of prison, certain white people have been convinced that the country will go up in flames at any time. Our school could not just give us a freebie, so they loaded us with work to complete by the end of the week. In my terrible anxiety to get it all done, I remained fairly oblivious to the fact that history was being made, that the majority of South Africans were voting for the very first time in history. My father worked for the IEC and helped people to understand how to vote. I could have gone and watched  my parents vote and be part of this historical occasion, but instead I think I remember being involved in trying to construct an insect trap for Biology class. I still regret that. I don't think I trapped a single insect anyway. I am glad about that.

I do remember Mandela's inauguration and speech. I think this was the first time I felt any kind of emotion while watching him on TV. It was truly exciting and even I could appreciate that. I could even enjoy most of his incredibly long speech, just because I was happy that he had the opportunity to say it.

I remember learning the new national anthem. I loved it and I still do. Our school took it very seriously and made a big effort to teach us how to sing it correctly, recruiting one of the Zulu girls to make sure our pronunciation was acceptable.

I write this to say merely that I was there. I was unremarkable. A privileged white girl, so privileged that she had no clue about the reality of her own country. I have nothing to be proud of or to boast about. But I was there. I remember. I will never forget him. He moved something deep within me and I cannot remember when or how I realised that this was not just another boring politician, but when it happened it changed me and now I can never look back on these banal personal memories of our history without intense emotions. I am so grateful to have seen Mandela walk free, even if I did not feel that way at the time.

Monday, 1 March 2010

New blog

Hi everyone,

I have migrated to my new blog site! It is very much a blog in progress, so I hope you will be patient with design disasters and stuff. But if you want to keep reading, you can now find me at

southafricanseamonkey.co.za


I hope to see all my bloggy friends over there!



UPDATE: Ok that blog domain has come and gone, I now blog at http://southafricanseamonkey.wordpress.com/. Am missing Blogger, to be honest.

Friday, 26 February 2010

DON'T CARE!


I think I wrote somewhere, sometime (not going to link to it because I am ashamed) that I was trying to cut down on coffee because of health reasons blah blah.

Well I am back to drinking a million cups of coffee a day. Because it actually lifts my mood. I don't know about scientific data proving that caffeine is an antidepressant but it is for me, probably because I'm an addict. If it gets me through this winter that's fine, I just hope my liver holds out.

I've realised that I am no longer able to distinguish when things are going well or badly at work. I think I reached a threshold of despair, and now I feel bad all the time, even though things are ok. I am miserable at work at the moment, and this extends to home where I just sleep and eat, and... sleep.

But not to worry, because this is all clearly down to SAD and if I hang in there and don't scream or throw something or say what's on my mind to anyone at work, then I will survive and winter will be over and I won't go insane.

And I even had an extra dose of sun over January!

Oh dear. When does it get warm here again? I remember people always talk about the good week in April. Bring on the good week in bloody April.

I have scientifically calculated that Northern European winters are bad for my health (sharp hey) so we are planning to move to South Africa round the end of next year.

I hope you realise how scared I feel writing that down in my blog. I never announce plans in my life ever, because things go wrong, and people change their minds, and things don't work out, and things get delayed, and things are not meant to be. But we are hoping to move back next year, or sometime. I am so superstitious that writing it makes me feel like I have jinxed it.

Oh ja, p.s. don't tell my Dad. My Dad's tactic of persuading me not to go back to South Africa drives me insane and involves him shouting the word "Australia" to me at random intervals. Oh Daddy, you never learned did you; if you want your stubborn daughter to do something you must tell her to do the opposite. There is now no way in hell I will ever move to Australia, just to go against my Dad.

Yes I am a brat.

Right now I don't care what anyone says about South Africa.

  • Malema wants to nationalise everything -> don't care
  • Malema is annoying -> don't care
  • The ANCYL declares a state of war every time someone looks at them -> don't care
  • SA is crime ridden -> don't care
  • Zuma wants to shag everything and have a million babies -> don't care
  • I spent my whole life in South Africa in financial difficulty -> don't care
  • people keep saying farming is doomed and SA will become Zim etc etc -> don't care
  • SA doesn't have iTunes or cheap and easy internet -> eeep I may care about this
  • Steve Hofmeyer lives in SA -> don't care


These are the reasons people give for not going back, amongst others. Well, I DON'T CARE!

I do care obviously, I care very much, but I'm going home damnit. I want to care there rather than here.

There must be reasons for me wanting to move back other than weather, but ... well, the weather is a major factor. Yup, how lame is that? And it's time for a change, BFG and I are stagnating.

Never underestimate the power of irrationality, frivolity and whim when it comes to making huge life decisions, that is my advice for the day.

Tuesday, 23 February 2010

My little blog is growing up!


I was having a pretty dismal Monday until I got an email from Briget of becausican.

If you didn't know, she won the Nerdies 2010 award, and much deserved! This is a South African award for the shecksiest blogger/tweeter spearheaded by by the blogger Shebee (who also runs Nerdmag) and it also donates to charity. This year they donated to the Wet Nose Foundation.

Anyway, Briget won some awesome prizes and she decided to give one of them to me! I am touched. She is giving me twelve month's hosting and domain registration by Eighty Six.

I must admit I am not entirely clued up to what this entails, but I assume there will be some changes around this little corner of the internet. This blog is nearly two years old so maybe it is time it took a step up the food chain.

Apparently the domain is a co.za one, which makes me feel a bit weird since I am not in
Dotcodotza land at the moment. But trust me, if my life plan goes according to... plan, I will be there, sometime in the forseeable foocha. Not that anything I have ever done has gone according to plan. But it has to now, it is written in the blog!

Thanks so much B, you definitely deserve your crown. And thanks Shebee for organising such a wonderful event, and thank you Eighty Six for your generous offer!

Monday, 22 February 2010

Robot angst

Sheesh, sorry for the distressed outburst on Friday, but it felt so good to write that post. I can't exactly freak out and swear in the lab but I did feel like throwing something at the wall at one stage.

For once it wasn't even my fault, technology was rebelling against me but it was just the limit. I can only take so much. I had to throw something away and have to start again this week. Whatevs.

I am feeling so much better. But lets be honest, I wrote this post on Sunday night, after lots of sleep, food and exercise. I thought it would be best to write it then rather than Monday because I assume after about 5 minutes on Monday morning I will be freaking out again.

So lets go with the happiness vibes.

BFG has been coding robots to destroy each other all weekend. His first robot committed suicide by bashing its head repeatedly against the wall, instead of blowing other robots to smithereens.

I just thought you would like to know.

Friday, 19 February 2010

don't bother reading this.

I don't think this month could possibly get any worse in terms of work. I have had it up to here. I want to swear. Alot . So I shall.

Fuck this shit. Seriously.

Am swearing a lot more in my head. I have been back from holiday just over a month and I need to go on another one asap before I have some kind of meltdown.


I hate everything right now. Sorry.