I was part of a nation that believed in aliens; more like in the fact that one day slash someday the Americans are going to land and save us all. I don't remember very well who or what was our biggest enemy nor what the expected saviours had to save us from, but I still recall that everybody believed in something else than in themselves. I am no different and please don't roll your eyes. You are like me. Would it not be nice to blame someone else for our tragedies and wait for them to sort out our lives? Would that mean that we lack confidence, self confidence, overconfidence or presumptuousness? Or maybe being arrogant enough and not standing up when life gets hard while wait...and wait...and wait for somebody to get involved? It is too complicated for me whatever it is. Who holds the truth by the way? It definitely should be the guys who put together the news on every media channel. They kind of know everything; otherwise why would they be so opinionated? If you'd listen to them, you would believe that sex, drugs and rock'n'roll are still the answers to everything bad that happens in the world. Hello! Flower power age way gone!
Anyway, like a modern girl I pretend to be, I read some goss and watch others. They are all the same; the only thing that changes is the names of the people who make the headlines. A famous somebody overdosed and somebody else holds the blame; a distinguished character with athletic figure was caught drunk (not his fault, no, how could it be?); a prominent person said by mistake a word that cannot be pronounced publicly; a celebrity's ex released a sex tape and it is the guy's fault not the starlet's one. Of course. It's like somebody forced her to get pleasured. On top of that...global warming. What's new, guys? Let me tell you something that may sound new to some. It is always our fault and it also is our choice how we live our lives. It's just the fact that we, average, ordinary and insignificant people, don't make the news...thank God! However, not only well known characters got drunk last weekend or one before. I am sure that many others did and if your names were not mentioned it is because you are not acclaimed enough for the local, national or international news. Which is amazing by the way. Not just famous people say naughty words. Just wait until you lose your IPhone and then you would hear yourself speaking in languages....very colourful ones! I'd do the same as innocent as I may look! We all have our weaknesses even if we keep them hidden. It's not everything about sex, drugs and rock'n'roll (long live rock by the way!).
We live our lives in a continuous desire of hiding who we are. We want to be liked, loved, appreciated and respected and we are afraid of showing the real us. Therefore we learnt to believe that we are never responsible for anything around us. But we are. Who cares if somebody had an extra glass if that person saves others from starvation and makes a difference to this world? There are so many problems we can be involved in and sort; there are so many people who need us. Once we would stand up to be counted, nobody would ever care about our weak sides. Mine? I am a bad driver with a bad car! And by the way, I would be so happy if this would be my only problem, but on top of that I am too stubborn with absolutely no self esteem. I feel better now that I said it....but I am who I am and, as weak or bad as I am , I care about others and I strongly believe that I am here to help others. What about you guys? :)
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An old saying states that money, fame and beauty won't buy us happiness. Depends on what happiness means for each of us, some of you may argue. If one cannot live without a kg of gold around the neck, then money is the answer. But that's not me! I am quite a simple person underneath my blondness...and I am not high maintenance at all...except to myself. Therefore I believe what others smarter than me believe in. Like in that saying about money and happiness. Understand me here, guys. I am not against money, nor spending what one earns through hard work. I love surrounding myself with beautiful, girlie things and I know that they all cost money. But I wouldn't sell my soul for them. I prefer investing in people. That will always pay off. So, recently I was fortunate enough to spend a great holiday in Fiji. Land of heaven, by the way! For those of you who have been there, I am not saying anything new. You have seen the resorts, all five stars, all opulent and all full of much more than one would ever need. Like their shops for example. Most of them jewellery shops with whatever your hearts desire. One of them caught my attention because it had the most amazing moonstone pendant....as cheap as 11,800 Aussie dollars. I looked and looked and looked again and then I decided to touch it. So I asked the beautiful girl behind the counter to let me try it on. Don't worry, guys, I couldn't afford it and, even if I did, I wouldn't want it. But I love moonstones and I couldn't resist. I wore the pendant for a second and I gave it back to the shop assistant. I walked back to the resort I stayed in for the rest of my holiday, but I couldn't stop asking myself who could ever spend that ridiculous amount of money on a pendant. It bothered me for the next few days....just until the bus left me in the city. The real city with a real heart. With poverty more than anyone expects to see! But with real good people. Nothing virtual, nothing fake, just hard life! I remembered the pendant while observing how rough life can be for some and I asked myself how many people can be saved with the amount the moonstone pendant worth...or how many local kids can be put through school by somebody who may have the cash to buy the moonstone beauty. Beauty is sublime tough, so the next day I went back to the shop that had the most beautiful moonstone pendant ever. It was gone...somebody bought it; somebody who had the money to throw on a piece of jewellery... Nothing wrong with that. I just hope that the owner of the moonstone remembers that money cannot buy happiness and that she is still the same person with or without the pendant. I also hope that the lucky lady asks herself the same questions that obsessed me and decides to make a change. She or her man has the cash and can give a few kiddies the chance to go to school and learn to read and write. I hope they do! And if they don't, we, who cannot afford an expensive moonstone pendant, will! :)
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Lately I Lately I see repeating numbers. Not dead people, no. Just numbers. Anytime I look at the clock, is 11:11. Sometimes 2:22...or 3:33 or even 4:44. Never 5:55 because at that time I have something better to do than checking the time. Like cooking dinner...or enjoying the end of the day...my style! Anyway, I am not the one who let things go, so I decided to solve the mystery. My options are booking a clairvoyant, who may cost me some money I don't want to spend, or puting together the pieces. Myself! That would give me something to do and make me be less common...which I am anyway. So, Google is the answer. As usual... 254 websites debating the repeating numbers enigma. Apparently people like me (bored or just blonde) complain about the same annoying numbers. Depending on the website's author the numbers are signs from angels or guide souls or supernatural mystic/ occult creatures. All masters of white magic, no doubt. I went through every possible explanations, but nothing appeared as being my final and supreme answer. I had time to google through and about because today I was home alone. Don't you love those days when the only person you have to take care of is you? So I googled...and googled. Then something caught my attention and even obsessed me for an hour or so. A smart person behind one of those cleaver websites believes that seeing repeating numbers is a sign that one is connected to the global reality. Finally I belong to the amazing greatness Universe... somehow...That makes me so proud which definitely increases my self esteem by 100%. Or even more.
Now, let me tell you how connected to the reality I really am. So aware of what's around me that I locked my door and realised a fraction of a second later that my keys are on the bench top. I even seen them through the window. I tried asking Hendrix, my dear puppy, to bring them to me, but he didn't hear me...or at least that's how he looked. So, in the awareness spirit, I climbed the bathroom window, that would let a child fit through...not me. Lucky I am stubborn and I was able, after a few attempts. to get in the house....on a thief entry style.
In the spirit of the same connectivity, I forgot in the shop the purseI just bought. I may be blonde, but I have style. Believe me. A girlie red purse I love to bits. You would as well! Am I so blonde? Apparently I am. My luck was that that lady behind the counter was not and she kept the purse until the blondie me came back to pick it up. So I have it. Lucky me!
Then, surrounded by the reality that I am connected to, according to the famous website, I decided to apply a nice nail polish. One that would work with the holiday spirit I am in. But it didn't. I am not a gold girl (nail polish removal worked just fine!), nor a silver one (nail polish removal was my salvation again!). Back on the subject (awareness of course!), I chose the right one....pink, no question here!
With the nails just painted according to my standards, I locked the suitcase I just filled in with items I cannot live without in my holiday...that starts tomorrow, guys. Yay. Now, wait a sec. I locked it as locked without any chance of opening it. I forgot the combination. Not my fault. Just me and my stupid blonde brain! So, I reconnected to the reality and for more than an hour I stayed put...and connected. Just while I tried and tried every combination possible. I got it finally because my angels helped. That's what another website says. Angels all around you, all willing to help if you allowed them to. And I did.
Now, I am not going further with how I spent my only day when I was home alone. Nothing I planed happened. But no worries. I am connected to the Universe and the reality I live in. I am...my way!
Have a great weekend, guys. I am just about to start my holiday...on an island, coconut trees all around, pools and waves, saunas and spas...and fun. Lots of it! And please don't google website after website if you see repeating numbers. Just ask me. I know what it means. Nothing really! :)
I said in one of my previous blogs that I own 100 dresses. I lied and I'm sorry. The truth is that I have in my wardrobe over 200...or even more. So I lied and this is because I didn't want to offend people. Not that people should be offended because I am able to have a different look every day. Fashion is my thing....nothing wrong with that. Coco Chanel once said that " a girl should be two things: classy and fabulous". Like my friend. She is young, beautiful and...blonde. And no, I won't give you her name, but I am more than happy share her story. My friend I was telling about works for a fun company, based in the city. Fab work environment, young team, just an amazing job. So she dresses funky and everything she wears suits her. She has style, my chick! Last week, after a girlie catch up, she decided to stay over and borrowed one of my dresses for work. Of course that after a quick look in my wardrobe, she chose a little black designer dress I bought in the UK. Don't even ask how hard it was to get it! The dress looked amazing on her, I thought. But no, not everybody had the same opinion. My girlie was called in the HR office, where a woman, looking more like a man by the way, let her know that she got a complaint about the way she looked. Apparently the dress offended a misterious mid age man from another office. She was also told that the building accommodates several companies and that there was a dress code in place for the whole building, no matter what the companies allowed their employees to wear. On top of that, the manly HR woman told my little friend that this time she was willing to kind of forget the incident, but next time....Now let's set the things straight because enough is just enough. This is my dress...one that I really like. Then, it is a true designer dress called "the little black office dress". Hello! The designer created this dress (I paid a bucket of coins for) ...for an office. I won't mention the designer's name because I don't want him to be offended by the small brain and bad taste of a HR person. But that's not all. The dress is not indecent. At all! But even if it was, I am just wondering why on earth a man should be offended by what a stranger woman may wear. And is that man paid to notice who's wearing what or to do a job? Also is it so easy to place a complaint? Is there no rule of what one can complain about? Because if there is not, every bored person or why not every perv can complain about and against what every woman wears. I haven't met the rude HR woman who made my friend cry. But if I've met her, I would ask her what was the complainer offended by? Cause if the nature is sexual, then my friend should be offended as well. You would be too knowing that there is a perve watching what you wear and what does your dress cover and what not. So, Madame (yes, the "e" at the end is intentional), your role is to be neutral. You're not a lawyer, nor a judge and you shouldn't take a complaint before checking it is has a real base. Cos it didn't even if you don't know that! You cannot comprehend that by the way because tasteless clothing offends people in style and stylish clothes offends idiots. And you're a woman too and you should know that women fought and died for us, 21st Century's ladies, to have the freedom to wear all sorts. And just because you have no style it doesn't mean that others should follow you. Women like you stop young girls to express themselves through what they wear. Their style is their fingerprint and nobody should stay between them and their desire to be different. You should know that cos you are a woman too and you've been a young girl at some stage....even if you forgot about that!
I have a word or two for the complainer too. Dude, get a life...and a job that doesn't allow you to look at young girls' dresses. One that keeps you occupied with serious things. And next time you are about to complain remember that woman are not toys...anymore. Thank God! Also remember how small you are! :)
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When I was a little girl, I used to pray every day for friends. I wanted as many as possible. Then I realised that there are friends....and friends. The second I heard about Picasso, I changed my prayer. If he asked for a museum to fill it with his paintings, I begged for a long life to fill it with amazing people. I was blessed so far, I have to admit it. I had good peeps around, who made my heart singing. And I had sneaky ones too. Some of them evaporated like they never existed, leaving behind a not so nice smell. Others lingered around for far too long. Those are my 2014 challenge! So, 2014 is the year when I'd make sure that I'd worship what's good in my life and get rid of what's rotten. It is about the time for a change, isn't it? Even a blondie like me knows that nothing is official unless is public...on Facebook. So let's start with Facebook. I am not too worried about the number of people I may be in contact with everyday. My target is...dodgy people with bad influences on my wellbeing. Like that guy who sent me a personal message in my "Other" folder. I never met the guy before, I never checked my other folder and I never knew that there is a folder called "Other". But there is one and all the society junk is stored there. Anyway, back to the guy. He founds me hot. Nothing wrong with that. It's just the fact that I am not interested in you, dude, who ever you may be. Nor in the other one....in the same other folder...who hoped that I had a great day so far. It's really comforting knowing that somebody cares about my day...not so much. What about the guy who, without any introduction, wants to meet me? ASAP like the world would end today... Not likely though! Wait. There is another lad. Let me quote this one. "You are so beautiful, dear. I want to marry you. Add me as a friend". No way, Facebook fellow, no way! I have my future plans and you are not part of them! I have to admit that the sweetest message came from a somebody who says he loves me and wants to know if I could possibly love him back. Maternal love, mate, cos you look half my ages. What about if I nicely block you all...without opening other messages in my weird folder called "Others"? Just like that. With that done, I moved to Skills Pages. Two guys wanted to add me to their network. What network are we talking about cos I have no clue? You have no businesses and I don't even understand what on earth are you doing on a skills website...when you have no skills. Then there is a personal message from a guy who I may have added by mistake in the past to my network. He passes me his phone number, urging me to give him a call because he has something important to share with me. Important and confidential. Why would I do that and who are you by the way? Wait, I know. Just another guy I am blocking. Right now. I don't even bother with Twitter. I cannot stop peeps following me there, but I can unfollow a few. Which I'd gladly do. What can I do about that dude on Linkedin who heck knows why messages me on this social network. He wants to know more about me...on Skype. He even decided that I am the one. The one who reports him for sure. With that done, I opened another message from a decent man (his words, not mine), widowed and single father of 2 little girls. Wait a second! If I check back, all the guys on Linkedin who sent me love messages lost their wives of cancer and all have one or even two little girlies who need a mother. Look into Mother Earth, guys, she may be a better one than me. All I can do is get rid of you by deleting you from my network. Done. I feel happier know. I have a few words from my blog followers as well. I mean the dodgy ones, not the honest readers. With these is another story. I can check the country they wrote me from. No, not the one they say they live in...the real one. Let me quote one dude. "My ballerina, allow me to know you better". Now, let's set things straight. First of all I am not yours. Never been, never will be. Secondly, I am not a ballerina and lastly it takes two for a relationship....which I am not willing to be part of. Same for you, who ever you were, who emailed me "meet me over dinner". How can I? You say you are in Australia...but you live in Nigeria. For real. Then , I wouldn't meet you for the world. I meet who ever I want to and you are not part of my wishing list. Nobody is, by the way! So email address blocked, sorry dude! Now, who are all these guys and what do they want? Most of them scammers. They don't just want to steal our, poor blondes', time, feelings and dreams. They look at the bigger picture. Their focus is on our money. What money really? Their messages seem written by the same hand. Like a set up script. Their photos are great and that makes them even more doubtful. They all look like movie stars, they all kind of were born in the States even if they live somewhere else at the moment. And they all "dear" us, girlies. Wake up, guys. Nobody "dears" these days anymore! Some have lost their wives and their tragedies bring tears to our eyes; others have been cheated on by their exes and are single dads. Poor them... Until I don't forget. They are all engineers with a technical Bachelor under their pillows. They all look successful. Now let me tell you something, "dears". Not every engineer is God's greatest gift. I met some assholes! Also success doesn't mean wealth and beauty comes from inside. I am not impressed by your airbrushed photos, nor by your technical background. I have a hammer myself and I sort of know how to use it. But I have a special message for any blondies around reading my blog today. You and I know that we, blondes, may have dumb smiles, but we are quite sharp minded. Legally blonde proved it! Don't get in love with jerks. And I am not talking here about internet scammers. Just jerks in general. You deserve better. Nature blessed you with blonde hair. Get the right guys. I did! :)
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My father used to say that the way you finish a year is exactly how you start a new one. He was always right so I wouldn't doubt him at all. Because every word he said meant the world to me, I decided today to sort out all my unresolved stuff...just because I don't want to carry unsorted things to the new year. So let's just see...what are my unclear thingies? There is only one actually...the one everybody knows about: Hendrix, my wild puppy. Let's just be clear here. His name says it all. He has Jimi's personality, he is wild and curious. Just a different specimen...a very special one! At least to me! Back on the subject. I decided to try today, the last day of this very amazing year, to work on his personality. Now, you all know that when he wants something...he gets it. Wait. He's got that from me. The difference is that I don't bark and throw tantrums and I am not trying to be the centre of the universe only to make myself observed from the moon. Hendrix does. So, I made a vet appointment for my dear puppy and I arrived there nice and early. At the beginning of his existence, Hendrix went through a major surgery and only God knows how he came out to the other end...fresh and alive. So everybody knows him. My vet believes that Hendrix is a miracle and a proof that he, the vet, is the best of the best. Because he escaped from the dark side, Hendrix is allowed everything and the nurse, the receptionist and the vet himself are happy to see him. I am sure that they would throw a red carpet if Hendrix would ask for one. Today for example he emptied the bowl full of treats...the one that would last for at least a month even if every dog that enters the clinic would get indulged. Then he ran to every corner. Like crazy! Then he opened the surgery door, where an other vet performed a major surgery on an old dog. Now, my boy is curious, I already said that. And the surgeon was so happy to see Hendrix by the way....After he got the vaccine for something and another two for something else, and definitely a few big bucks later, I opened up and told the vet that I want him to check on Hendrix' behaviour. There may be something wrong. No wrong as bad...no way...just something crazy weird. Just saying....The vet smiled. Hendrix is a great puppy, who by the way just celebrated his first birthday. He is beautiful, very smart and well behaved...just a little bit too curious, which is fine as per my vet. It may be fine for him because he doesn't live 24/7 with Hendrix under the same roof. I know better. I witnessed him doing the craziest things ever, chewing walls.... and decks.... and cables.... and metal things. I've seen them all! So, yes, the vet agreed to do a total check up on my black Labrador Ridgeback cross. And as he's done that, his face colour changed. Actually he got to the stage where there was no colour left and I was thinking to myself that very soon I would be able to prove my first aid skills. The result was unexpected. Was it really? Hendrix suffers of ADD. You see, vet? I had my suspicion! No medication though available, my vet said,... other than a stuff that has to be sprayed a few centimetres around Hendrix. Then keep him still for 10 minutes. Are you kidding me? Hendrix staying put for more than a second? That's the century's biggest joke! Guys, let's make this clear. I need something to calm this little beast down without transforming him in a legume. With this thought in my mind, I stepped into another vet clinic. I needed a second opinion and, to be honest, when it's about Hendrix, I may need a thousand opinions...and still confused. There might be a cure, the other vet said, but I just ran when I heard the word Prozac. I even covered Hendrix' ears because I didn't want him to hear that he may suffer of a kind of who knows what depression. That would give him ideas about how to benefit of his "disorder". That's when I ended up at the animal homeopath. The lady was nice, actually more than nice...until she saw my dear puppy....and realised that he is hard case. Like I didn't know that! Her hands got full in a sec with all sorts. First of all, my pup has to start on raw diet. He will even have real muesli and lots of veggies that I have to boil for hours....like I am not busy enough...with Hendrix himself. And like he knows what he eats as long as his bowl is full! And it is...otherwise I am in big trouble. Anyway, on top of the annoying diet, there are drops Hendrix would have from now on....in his water. There are not just for Hendrix though. He shares his water bowl with another two dogs, Max and Neo. Apparently they have to be on the medication as well....to be able to understand the black devil more! Now, would all my struggle (and money spent) sort Hendrix' behaviour? Only God knows! But it's worth trying. And if the raw diet and miraculous Bach therapy drops won't work, there are other things I may try. Lots of them, because there is only one Hendrix! Thank God! Happy New Year, peeps! :)
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I love Christmas...and I still believe in Santa. Why wouldn't I? He was always very generous with me....not because I was the best girlie in the whole world. Just because Santa is good. I was brought up in a country where we were told that Santa died...in a car accident. A shallow personality cult of an incapable president dictated this desperate measure. Nobody had to ever be more important than the president himself. And apparently Santa was. So they killed him. Hello people! This should never happen again! No kid has to ever have a beautiful fantasy demolished. As a little girl, I always knew that there has to be something wrong with the story I was told about Santa. Maybe he survived the accident, maybe good doctors saved him in a marvellous emergency service, I thought. I knew he was old, but miracles can happen. Old people survive accidents. Maybe not so old as Santa, but still... I read about him in "A night before Christmas". So he was already spreading gifts in the early 1800s. I also knew that his powers started with Saint Nicholas of Myra, somewhere in Byzantin Anatolia, as early as the 4th century. So, yes, he was old, but I believed in miracles (I still do by the way!). And let's be honest. How great medicine is these days comparing to the ancient times....
Dead of alive, Father Christmas left a Chrismas tree for me...ever since I can remember. And some prezzies...as many as my foster parents were able to afford. Now, the tree was the marvel because no pine tree was available. I told you that the bad president wanted Santa dead, so if he wasn't alive, then there were no Christmas trees. The truth was that it was forbidden to have a Christmas tree! However, my parents traveled for hours (and no, we didn't have a car!), from one little village to another one, hoping that they would find a pine tree for us children. You don't know how much they had to pay for it! A fortune really! But they always returned with the most beautiful Christmas tree, the tallest in the whole world. At least this is how I remember my Christmas trees. My parents used to tell me that the Christmas trees came from Santa himself who left them in a small village...for me only....which is true by the way. Santa has done that. He is amazing.
There were always gifts under my Christmas trees...from Santa again! Sometimes an orange, other times a chocolate bar. Times were rough in a poor country...with a bad, bad president! But no matter how hard it may have been for my parents, Santa always left me a gift. Not dolls, no...I had none by the way! Not even toys. Those were for Western kids...and I wasn't one of them. But I was a kid like every kid in the world and I got spoiled by Santa...as much as my parents were able to afford!
Every Christmas, my parents sang carols....for Santa...and me. Singing carols was forbidden too...by the bad president. But my parents knew better. They celebrated Christmas...for me! And I wasn't even an exemplary kid. Just an ordinary girlie, sometimes good, other times not too much!
For me, Santa came back to life even stronger when I moved to my new country. How can I not believe in his powers when he came back from his grave? Like Jesus perhaps. However, I don't worship Father Christmas...I just believe in his return every year...and I keep my hopes up. My parents taught me that! But I still remember that I was told that Santa died in a car accident and that Christmas trees haven't been allowed...by a bad president. Nor gifts...or Christmas carols. Not even Christmas itself. I also remember that my parents knew that Santa is alive and made every effort possible to keep his spirit going. Therefore, I would never understand why in Western countries, where Santa didn't die in any accident, kids are told that Santa is only a myth. Because he is not! He is for real and this is how it will always be. Let your kids be kids, no matter how old they are. Let them dream and allow them a fracture of a fantasy. Because if you do now, after years and years, they would remember about you, their parents...at Christmas...when Santa drops a gift for them. And they would miss Christmases you organised for them....and they would miss you...like I miss my parents who told me, against an antiChristmas bad president, that Santa is alive. And he will always be! Merry Christmas, guys! :)
This year was by far my best year. It was (sorry, still is) like candy floss and believe me when I'm saying that there is nothing better than that. I haven't been bored for a second this year because spectacular things happened. It's called life by the way and I had the privilege during the last 12 months more than ever to live every second of it like there was no other left. I blogged before about things that happen for a reason. Actually I blogged about things happening randomly without any reason. I changed my mind. Things do happen for a sense, a logic apprehended only by a celestial omnipotency. Would this be the proof that destiny is more than a word in the dictionary? I am not sure about that (just yet!), but if it is, then I may suddenly be eligible for the Nobel Prize. Now, let's be honest. Have you ever seen a blondie getting that prize? Neither did I! Anyway, the gods and goddesses were in a very generous mood and decided to give me, an average blondie, if not the Nobel, at least a year of everything others would just hope to have. Now this is kind of false...or maybe just an exaggeration of a blonde mind. Let me explain.
2013 caught me on my wrong foot. Definitely my left one because I am right handed (and footed, I suppose). Actually this is a false statement again because I am ambidextrous. I started the year on a low, as I've said, just because shit happens. So I thought to myself (no, not what a wonderful world!) that I had only two options: to ask the mighty universe for luck or to trick the highest entity itself into noticing me...because we all know how busy the gods are helping others rather than ourselves! You know me. Demanding for things is not in my nature. At all. So, I've chosen the adventurous path of reversing my pathetic bad luck by making myself noticed by the mighty entities lingering around. Once they would see me, they would give me abundance of good things, I thought. What if I did a good deed, something big, every fortnight for the rest of 2013? And no, organising a party for a poor girlfriend who broke a nail, doesn't count. I started the next day and I ticked a good thingy every second week. It was easier than you think, guys. There is so much pain and desperation around. There are so many tears nobody has the time to remark! I've chosen my people very carefully. Not just the ones who deserve the best got my good deed. Not at all! I got in a desperate mood last week when I realised that I had one more person to help...and apparently nobody needed my honest and unselfish act. This time I was lucky and I've done two good deeds the same day, so, after I ticked the last for 2013 in my diary, I noticed that I am in credit of one. 20 good acts from March onwards. Not too bad. Have I changed lives? I don't know about that. Again, I am too small in the huge picture of our universe. What I know is that I gave as much as I was able to...my own time, understanding, tolerance, help, friendship, material things and even love. Again, have I changed lives? Mine, for sure!
Now that I look back...it worked! For every good deed I got something back. Sometimes a smile, other times a hug. But there were also those times when spectacular things surprised me. Huge things that count more than life itself. Like the pure and perfect love of my children...or a new friend...or a new puppy I got to adore (Hendrix, of course!)....or a moonstone I always wanted to have! :)
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There are two categories of people. I decided that long time ago when I opened more to things in life. There are people who can make it on their own and others who live on their shoulders. Like monkeys, by the way. Believe it or not, successful peeps learn their own lessons, overcome their own struggles, stand up straight after every fall and need other people in their lives only to share love and happiness with them. They are more likely to be heard saying "lean on me" to the weaker ones. They are never poor because they own so many souls they carried on their shoulders for years. They don't need money to be happy. They are even happy carrying the monkeys on their shoulders, who, as Schopenhauer said, need money...lots of them to reach ridiculous goals. "Because people have no thought to deal in, they deal cards and try and win other people's money".
How did winners get to win and losers to lose? Very simple. I said it already. Winners learn their own lessons. Actually they love learning and they don't let a year pass without a new piece of knowledge. Just because knowledge is power...and another deep circumvolution on the surface of their brain. So what did you learn this year, guys? Cos I know I did a lot. I learnt to learn again and this is biggie. To learn what? To live, of course. The deepest lesson I learn however was that the greatest gift I can give to somebody is my own time. I learnt that Christmas is not a competition of spending more and more money. It is one of spending more time with the loved ones. It's called sharing. I learnt that I have a family, distorted or not, still a very strong one. One that I am very proud about! I also learnt that I don't need to have them all, fame and glory and success and a hallo over my head. I have what I need and this is enough to keep me happy. So what was the lesson you brought to your life during the last 12 months, guys? That lesson, no matter how small it is, made you a winner by setting you apart from the ones who lose. Because we were all created to be winners. It's just that we lost ourselves somewhere in what's called a busy life and we jumped from one extreme to the other one... a few times. You are a winner, so go winning! Win souls, win people, love and respect their weaknesses more than their strengths. Tolerate their beliefs and learn from their rituals. Adapt to situations you never thought life would throw you in. And never forget that the monkeys you may carry on your shoulders may become winners someday...or not. It's their lesson to learn and their destiny to follow....not yours. Your path is a winner's one because you're loved, respected and even envied...by some monkeys who will never become winners!
It's almost Christmas again. Remember that you are a winner, a very successful human being and act like one. Success has nothing to do with how many degrees you have, the size of your bank account or the number of the latest gadgets you were able to buy yourself. Not even with how impressive your house may look like. An average family spends over $1000 one Christmas presents...at least this is what the surveys show. You don't need that. You are a winner and winners give away love and spend time with people around them. Winners look up to people in need...not down to them. Winners don't lick their wounds no matter how hurt they are. They help others heal. Winners are busy people, I know, because they don't live other people's lives...they pursuit their own destiny in glory by lifting others up. They may even have to carry a monkey or two on their shoulders. Did I do that? Yes, I did and some worth it, others not so much. But I know one thing. My name is Brigitte and I am a winner! :)
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I avoid using words ending in "ist". I never liked them too much. To be perfectly fair, some are fine, but I totally cut off the ones that are not. Like "misogynist" or "racist" or "anarchist" or "anaesthetist" or even "blacklist". All remind me of a silent violence, intolerance and bad taste. Hello people! It's 21st century and nothing is written in capitals anymore. I wish people would use stubbornness to create a better world rather than destroying whatever is left of it. Many would not want to hear that... but I have to bring up the word "love". At the end of the day it is the answer to everything. Call it interpersonal affection, altruism or just close friendship, love is still love and it has not much to do with agape or eros or narcissism. During the years I witnessed many relationships starting and probably more ending....and I am not talking about me here. Couples around me got together or felt apart, depending on the stage of their lives, desires or just destiny. I witnessed, as I've said, love in its purest ever form and ...indifference. I have a strong intuition. That's something I was born with. I smell love from very far away. Now, please don't take that literally. My nose is smaller than Pinoccho's , I promise. Anyway, back on the subject. Love again. I've seen couples, I trained many, I got friendly with heaps, I've been there for lots and several have been there for me. I thought I've seen it all actually. I was wrong. I met recently the most perfect couple nature or Gods have ever created. And when I say perfect, I mean just that! I don't know if they are perfect individuals though, but no doubt that as a couple they seem exceptional. This time I have really sensed and seen with my own eyes love in action. I even envied them for a second. Then I realised that love may require sacrifice, devotion, understanding, respect and so much more than that and they, the love birds, have gone through so much...together. I still envied them a little bit...especially when I realised that what I've seen between them was even deeper than the biblical Proverbs or the beginning of the soulmate theory explained by the Coran. Divine or so called creationist writings fell to explained why a couple can make it so far and definitely why they can breath pure love....but it can because, as I've said, I've seen it with my own wyes. No doubt here! I have no clue how can two individuals get to that sort of unity of souls...and I'm sorry. But I guess that there should be a long path couples may have to travel to together! From one dimension of a single soul to a supernatural one of a whole entity. I also suppose that the path is quite long and adventurous. I am still not sure because I never been there. Envy again? Just a little bit. Anyway, envious or not, one thing I know for sure: that I have seen love in the most amazing pure form and that made me a proud human....and hopeful too. Thank you for showing me that, Karen and Russell. This is for you, guys! :)
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I don't suffer from bad luck. How could I when it is so obvious that bad luck is beyond my control? More than likely, in the prescriptive sense, luck and the opposite of it are supernatural phenomenons. So how on earth would I be able to control something way above the law of physics? As a human, I deeply agree with Carl Jung's way of perceiving bad luck as a descriptive coincidence, perhaps a synchronicity of daily events. As a blondie, I developed a theory about bad luck coming in fours (no, not threes; that's old fashioned already). Was it Jung smarter than me? Maybe, but the difference between us is that I can prove my theory.
First of all not every road leads to Rome. Some may lead to Hamilton for example. No, not that fancy UK or Scotland or US ones...just the one based in New Zealand. Let me start with saying that from the place my home is to Hamilton there are around two hours drive. So bad luck number one consists in not checking the oil levels before hitting the road (Jack!). Don't look at me funny. I know nothing about cars; why would I? Actually I know that every car has a wheel and two pedals and I even heard that some cars have three pedals. It's not that I don't drive. I do, but I am as useless and my hair colour proves it. Let's just define bad luck number two: boring music on the radio stations available in the middle of nowhere and not even one good CD with me. On top of that, horrible rain all the way, which is bad luck number three. Why? Just because it always rains when I take a day off. Now, I could live with all these, but I couldn't stand having a bad make up...and that leads to bad luck number four. But wait. Before that, I should remind you to never stop in Huntly. This is common sense, everybody knows that. But I stopped and jumped straight from the car in an immensity of water. Not just that my beautiful stockings soaked, but my make up got all over the place...and let's admit it...this is a total disaster for a girlie. Not so huge as the car not willing to start anymore. Now, I'm not in the mood to go over the whole drama this created. I already made my point that bad luck comes in fours, Mr. Jung. However, I still arrived in one piece in Hamilton...eventually; even if I stopped in Huntly.
After every storm there will be a calm because sun shines after rain, doesn't it? It's not that I reversed bad luck. It's just common sense again...and, as you know, I'm full of it! I'm already at that point in my life when I could develop another blonde theory; this time about sudden luck coming in threes after bad luck coming in fours. I have the hypothesis, also the conclusion. All I need is to link them. By the way, you never got so far in your thoughts, Carl Jung...lucky you!
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What do men talk about when they have a men cave day? I have no idea really, but I know what chick do chat about. Men! And when I mean men, it's all about men from A to Z. I know that because that's what my girlies talk about when we have a cool, relaxing, girlie day. Like today.
So here I was with my fav girlie in the whole wide world, Miriam, having the best day ever. You know what I mean, don't you? A little bit of shopping, a coffee here, a chat there... all sorts really, just analysing our lives, what 's good and what's bad, what's too much and what's missing. My problems? No problems, by the way, which is good. Hers? Nothing whatsoever. But we know other girlies that suffer, so why not making a whole dissection of their issues. Men, that's their main concern if you don't know it already. Actually lack of men! So where can you find a great guy when you don't have any in your life? Sport fields? Wrong! Those guys are too preoccupied with sweating and playing the ball that they wouldn't even notice your perfect eyeshadow...nor your desperation! In clubs and pubs? Wrong again! Those duds are too drunk to perform later on. At your uni maybe? Nope for the third time! You don't need a nerd, chicks! So where? On one of the dating sites? Seriously? Small chance again, because most of the chaps are in multiple relationships already. I heard stories...Where again then?
Miriam and I scraped the subject for quite a while. Then Edison's bulb lightened up suddenly. Remember that we are both blondes, I mean super blondes, and we, blondies always have an answer for absolutely everything. How to catch a great guy? Simple. Go to Pak'nSave. Now wait. There is a catch here. You want a sporty, relaxed guy? Pak'nSave Mangere is the answer. All the muscle definition is there, starting with a smooth quad and finishing with a strong biceps. You want a surfer? Go to Pak'nSave Silverdale around 2ish in the afternoon. The guys are there in between two waves. If you want a classy one, you would have to drive to Pak'nSave CBD...but not before 7pm. You want a corporate one, don't you? Black tie guys finish sorting out their emails, stock taking and phone callings around 6:30ish...pm. So please chose carefully which of the locations works better for you. Once there, look around. Have you seen him? Fine. Firstly check if your makeup is perfect. Then go closer and have a look at what he has in his trolley. Remember that a guy who buys tampons is definitely in a relationship. Not so sure though about a dude who buys condoms. He may be or may want to be in a sort of connection with another girlie. So none of those are your catch. The guy you are looking for has in his trolley steak, peas, bacon, maybe beans and wine for sure. This is your prince, sweeties, so be ready to approach him. You know how to do it. Big eyes, duck lips and a little bit of surprise on your face. "Wow, you like peas too!!!! How do you cook it?", would do it. Then listen to whatever stupid recipe he gives you...and remember that peas are peas and there are not many options other than heating it up somehow. And wait...and wait even more... until he offers to cook himself the stupid peas...for you only...tonight. You see? Easy. You can have the man of your dream in just a few moves.
So girlies, don't wander around too much; no need to make a profile on a dating website...or to wait until your buddies hook you up on a blind date with a ridiculous guy. Just go to Pak'nSave. Remember that location is the key. Now, if you are a guy and want to meet the princess you can take home to your mama...go to Pak'nSave too. Throw some steak, wine, bacon and peas in your trolley and...wait. One of my chicks will approach you and ask how you cook the peas. She's the one because she put so much attention to detail in meeting you. Now don't ask me if I've experiment myself what I preach because....I shop at Countdown! :)
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I am looking forward to the New Year's...party. Every girl should have one, so, if you are a girl, you know what I mean. You know even more about it....if you're blonde! Party, yes, party in style baby! Bubbly, good food (followed by indigestion the next day!), inspiring music. But that's not all. How can I forget the outfit? Best heels, as high as possible, fluffy dress, long enough to only cover...the underwear! So I am looking forward to all the fuss, why not? I know exactly what I'd wear, I even decided over the makeup....but I don't have a New Year's resolution list and I cannot stand that. Yes, it bothers me that all my girlies know what they want to do next year. I suck at planing dreams just because dreams are to be dreamt. And let's be honest, when a dream comes true, that's not a dream anymore. But you know me already. I wouldn't want to be less than my chicks are so I need a resolution list badly...and as soon as possible. Otherwise I would look stupid. Now wait a sec: I am blonde, not stupid! So let's just analyse together why do I need my list....and blame it on somebody else. Like on the Babylonians. That would do! They are the ones who invented New Year's parties, they should be cursed for my list! They won't be upset though...I blame them anyway for inventing money... But New Year's resolutions was not their fault though. It's the Roman's...again. Apparently everything starts in Rome....love included! Wrong again. Everything starts with Rome. That sounds better. The Romans, proud and strong nation (so strong that they disappeared!) invented New Year's resolutions. Maybe their only resolution was to survive the Feast of Circumcision that was held the next day, on 1st of January (excuse me...Janus) of each year. Anyway, a list should have items....as many as better! So what do I want? Health, wealth...and a new belt for my red dress. None in my power...except the belt, which I can get myself before the New Year party starts. Now seriously what? I am thinking about something realist that I can achieve with no effort. Imagine my girlies' faces when I would tell them, early in the new year, that I have reached all my goals on my resolution list. Deal done. I have to make it simple. A better year? Nope, because 2013 is the best year of my life. Better than 2012 anyway, when I was waiting (like the rest of this planet to see if the world ends or not!). I said simple, I am sticking to that. I just want what's in my destiny to have. Love, fun, a beautiful world with beautiful people in it...or in a few words: I want my blonde world to be even blonder! That won't hurt anybody...and it is so easy to achieve.:)
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I am big on Christmas. Not big as fat. No way. I am a Personal Trainer, I wouldn't do that to myself. Just big as special. At Christmas, I want do do everything and be everything. This year though I forgot about Christmas. But not for long because the shops reminded me that I have less than a month to cover my blondness and dream about what I could be...this Christmas. So I 'd let the shops organise their little party. I am sure it would pay off. Me? Ahh, in such a rush to write a long, long letter to Santa. He loves me more than his own existence...or not. "Dear SantaI haven't been as good as you may think I was. No, I haven't lied...I'm too blonde for that...and I still blush so I would have been discovered anyway. But I haven't been boringly good. You know me, Santa. Too fast, too precise and too analytical. I almost forgot: much too intense. I promised last year to be a better driver...and I am still useless...a real embarrassment for the driving race. I still cannot stand up for myself. I rather swallow my temper and let others win the battle. I still love pink and wear my princess headbands. My dresses are too short and I have to admit...shamelessly...that this is the way I like them. I am still not embarrassed wearing my heels. I am still not a jeans-jandals girl. I still say the naked truth and weird things that are just average and normal in my own world. And yes, Santa, I still live in my own world. You don't know how hard it was to build it and bring it to perfection. I still hide in my own world...just because I don't want to hurt people. I am still afraid of what gravity may do to my body someday. So please don't even go there! I still talk to my puppy Hendrix more than I talk to real people. I do it when nobody sees me because I don't want to seem weirder than I am. I still sing loud in the shower...only when I am home alone. So I haven't been as good as others. But you're not perfect either. First of all, you, Santa, are pagan...like Christmas is by the way. I know that people associate Christmas with Christianity. Wrong. Christmas was a celebration way before the first christian declared christianity a way of life. You, Santa, and I know that Romans celebrated the week between 17 and 25th December as a time of peace and lawlessness. Good time to let revenge do justice because all the Roman courts were closed. I am not saying that you, Santa, are a fraud. I am not one either. We are who we are, but I have to say the truth about Christmas. And we both know that Christmas like marriage are pagan rituals. None of them have anything to do with Christianity or any other religion. If Christmas was so obvious in ancient Rome, marriage was recorded in ancient Greek times, when a father handover his daughter for..reproduction duties. Aren't you and I smart, Santa? But no fraud!So I was thinking very well, dear Santa, and decided that, even if I wasn't too good (again!), I still want a prezzy. I just want a jolly good Christmas (pagan or not!). I also want to dress up as an angel (that I'm not!) and live happily in my own blonde world...as I always did. I know the rules, Santa. I made them! Wait. I also want to be able to make people around me happy. Just to bring smiles on people's faces actually. This would make my Christmas angelical. I am sure you can help me out, Santa. No shopping involved, no wrapped prezzies, no fakes...just good old me bringing my share of happiness to others. P.S. By the way, Santa...I still love you and promise for the million time that...I may be better next year...or not!" :)
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I love Heggel, always did, always will. Not him as a person; mostly his thoughts. Wouldn't have been nice to be able brainwashing him and sucking all his ideas in my brain? But no, because they may not have fitted there. Too many ideas for a blonde brain. So all I am left to do is to wish that I was so smart to come up with all those fancy thoughts. I, the blondie, believe in destiny and wonder what's ahead me. Heggel believed in reasons. For him, there were reasons that made the world progress towards destiny. Now, let's simplify it. Reasonable beats creation. Good enough for me. I wouldn't even have the right words to demolish this anyway. How does this work however in real life? Simple. Just like that.
Lately things just fallen on my laps. Like that cookbook that almost smashed my knee. Good thing however because I am a passionate cook. Not an excellent one, nor a really creative one,. Just passioned about cooking. Sometimes I'm good, other times not so much. Anyway, when it fallen, cos it did, the book opened at cauliflower soufflé. I never cooked that before, so I decided to play a little bit in the kitchen. So for more than an hour I mixed the ingredients as per the advise of that cook guy who wrote the book. When the whole stuff (that looked weird by the way) went nicely in the oven, I started running flat like a battery. Not the Energizer one cos that lasts more than an hour. Just like the economy everyday one. But still excited to try out my new meal. Bad idea though. An hour later, the stuff with a nice French name was cooked...or not. And I tried it. Huge mistake. Uneatable really. So I thought my dogs would like it. Bad thought again. Not even them. But least they drank lots of water right after the first bite....to wash the French taste off...which it still makes me sick when I remember about it. So disaster in the kitchen. Never mind. I can go back to my usual cooking, the old fashioned roast.
Heggel was somebody, wasn't he? So I can now prove that he got it right. I had a reason and that was to make a great meal. But, as I've said, reasons beat creation. In other words reasons make destiny happen. And they do. My destiny has nothing to do with me being a chef. Apparently. So I have to keep being a trainer. I'll just do that instead. :)
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