I move my cursor to the top right of my screen…”write“, it says. I click on it as it’s too enticing not to.
It’s Sunday and for the first time in months, I haven’t got any work to do. It’s weird. I love my job. I am writer. It sounds so lovely to say even lovelier to say out loud. I work seven days a week. I told myself today would be all about reading poetry and relaxing, but in all honesty—I am so fucking bored.
I did read poetry, dark poetry—Milk and Honey by Rupi Kaur. Her poetry is so simple, like anyone could have written it. But at the same time, it has an effect on me. Her words don’t need to be deciphered, twisted, and analysed like the long and strange poetry we were forced to read in high school. They’re straightforward, and true. Perhaps that is why they have an effect on me… that and her brave account of how badly men have treated her.
I’m home in South Africa for now, and I have almost no stress at all. It’s weird. I sit beside the ocean and write. I hear the stillness of the night, I breathe fresh air, I feel the sun on my skin. I feel reality. It’s now my business to know what everyone is getting up to in their lives—and while I couldn’t really care, it’s sometimes nice.
These are my thoughts as the day—and week—come to a close.
Have a happy week, everyone.
For 22 years, I drifted my way through life. I rarely felt passion, I acted carelessly and I gave myself away too freely. What did it matter, though? I didn’t need to do anything substantial because I was constantly being taken care of by people in my life. My parents paid for everything, my friends took care of me when I was too drunk to get home and I didn’t have my first job until I finished university. Life was a mere spectacle. People loved my stories of how I ended up in dangerous situations and I loved telling them. I have always lived for adventure – the destructive kind.
I spent five years studying a degree I didn’t care about – little did I know, that it was this degree that would land in me in places I had only dreamed of. I ended up spending four years in Korea, teaching English, meeting locals and other foreigners, experiencing things that I thought were fascinating yet strange at the same time. I knew I had to take advantage of this situation, I knew that I was destined for more than a scandalous story.
I booked tickets to countries that excited me as often as I could. One such time, I ended up on Boracay Island in the Philippines on a solo trip. My hotel room overlooked the sky-blue ocean, great palm trees and the sun beamed into the full-length windows like rays of happiness. My bed was decorated with my favourite flower – the frangipani. Regardless of the abundance of geckos and lizards (my worst fear), I breathed in life. I talked with the locals who taught me about humility. I learned about the island in all its beauty that was jaded by social issues. The people were poor, but they were happy.
I visited a piercing and tattoo parlour on the beach and decided I would get my first tattoo – an outline of Africa on my back. It’s not big and it’s not magnificent but it is meaningful. After all those years I spent trudging through a boring and predictable life, here I was in the middle of nowhere, by myself, with a permanent symbol on my back that reminds me of who I was, who I am and where I come from. Africa will always be home.
No matter where I go (and I plan to go everywhere), Africa will always have my heart because now, I am in a place where I can truly love and admire the beauty of my home country, the inspiring people that encouraged me to live my best life and the astounding diversity that makes this world spectacular. I no longer crave destructive adventure – just, adventure.
I won’t lie – the OCD in me makes sure that I post on this blog at least once a month so that I can keep up my months in the archive list. I have missed one month, somewhere along the line, but I’m just pretending that didn’t happen.
It’s February! And after much uncertainty, I am still at my writing job in London and I am still absolutely thriving and loving it. It makes such a difference to your life when you love what you do.
I really do love that people are still reaching out to me about their worries and or concerns about moving to Korea in terms of their weight, and I am always happy to help out when possible – so keep the messages coming.
Things really are just great at the moment. I have nothing to complain about and if you know me, you’ll know that’s rare. It’s liberating to not be angry, annoyed or upset every day.
I still sometimes pinch myself to see if this is all a dream, but it’s not. I’ve made it. I couldn’t be happier with my life.
Before January gets away from me – I wanted to express the weird feeling that I have right now – it’s happiness. This is so strange for me – for the first time in my life I absolutely love my job and it’s made the world of different to my life.
After teaching in the UK for four months – and being utterly miserable the entire time, I thought maybe I was stuck in this career. I took a shot and have now got a new job as a writer in London. This is what I have always wanted!
This is such a great feeling.
Today was really something spectacular.
I’ve just come home from a holiday at my brothers place – not far from here, but a short plane ride away. It was a well-needed time off but along with any family gatherings, there’s of course irritations and annoyances. Either way, I can honestly say that I was taken care of for a solid ten days and I was very grateful for that.
Whilst on the train home from the airport – I sat and I smiled. Perhaps I should give you the backstory to this smile. I recently applied for a writing position as I have been in and out of work at different high schools around England and this profession is turning me into a bitter woman who hates every minute of her job. That’s not why I moved here. In fact, I moved her almost for the sole reason to find a job that I love. Anyway, as I was applying for different teaching roles, I thought – why the hell couldn’t I be applying for a writing position? I have a degree in English and tons of writing experience, albeit non-professional, but still. I sent out my CV to some companies, thinking not much of it. I was asked in for an interview for a well-known company in London. I went for the interview almost two weeks ago, after which I was asked to write a few pieces for one of their less popular websites – sort of a trial/test. Yesterday, I was given back amazing feedback by a few members of the company and was offered the job.
I thought about how all of this began – not this being my job application, but me turning into a passionate person. I’ve always loved to write – but for a good few years, the light inside me was out and I stopped caring about things. It was only in 2012, when I started this blog, that I re-realised my passion for writing. Thinking back, what was it that re-lit that fire within me? That made me sit down and actually write and keep up the writing, to start my book and to then further my passions into photography and film? Well, and as oddly as this sounds – I feel as though I owe all of this to that one douche bag who I dated in 2012 that made me so heartbroken that I actually started this blog. I wonder if I would of ever sat down to start it under any other circumstances? And although I still feel fucked up and bad and weird feelings for that guy – I am here now, over three years of blogging, an almost complete book and a career in the industry that I love. I also felt as though I owed some of this success to my weight. As I am coining in and talking about my experience of being overweight and the humour – I almost feel as though my body is something to be proud of. It’s one of the reasons I am sitting with something to show for my life. And thirdly, I owe it to Korea. For changing and moulding me into a brand new, spirit-awakened person.
Thank you, universe. It’s my time to shine.
I’m sure you’ve visited my blog thinking that it was going to be a bit of a laugh? How embarrassing! I have been complaining for about twenty-thousand consecutive years now. Re-reading some of my writing has been cringe-worthy to say the least. So then, let me sum up my life for the last seven months in England, using a different perspective – humour and light-hearted ridiculousness.
Seems I’m not really cut out for teaching that special breed that is English school children as they are rather cuntish but as I look back on the last few months having literally sat on the side of the road with my luggage, in Birmingham of all places, to getting very drunk outside a train station in London by myself on a Sunday with the occasional wee in the local Indian restaurant and friends popping over to say hi – I guess you could say that I am pretty much winning at life. And although I’ve mellowed out considerably, going from “I can’t believe I’m still alive!” to only letting my ex boyfriend finger bang me, these are the stories I’ll remember one day.
I don’t know where I’ll be in two months or two years. This place has chewed me up and spat me out on many occasions but I’ve turned around and fought back “Fuck you!” Look at me, I’ve made it. Little old me. The girl who thought she couldn’t achieve anything, zooming around with confidence and stride. Who, for the first time in her life, has people pining over her. I CAN survive anywhere and I WILL survive anywhere.