I woke up and prodded my bloated belly- I had so much pee saved up that I looked pregnant. The toilet is too far and so I can’t get up each time I need to pee. The fly slept well, it was buzzing around when I woke up- I watched it for a while and then smacked the life out of it with my slipper. I then proceeded to go pee and whilst doing this a wonderful idea came up to me to take a shower. I had not showered yesterday- I’m not the most hygienic person and this does not bother me at all.
I think my ears are going to bleed; Johannesburg is noisy all the time, all the damn time- all romanticism of it is slowly eroding like my hearing. Right now a couple of men screamed and scared the shits out of me because I thought they may be getting attacked but then I realised a huge soccer match is playing tonight and these men were shouting in unison for joy not pain. I think I have a migraine- I am not sure.
Today I did absolutely nothing, I tried to relax but fuck it was noisy and so I stared into the blank walls of my tiny bedroom hoping to get some inspiration but instead I felt a deep deep sensation of loneliness and of course I tweeted this sentiment I was feeling- it did not make me feel better but somehow through my timeline I found a wonderful black feminist and then went onto her blog. After reading some articles written by her I was inspired, don’t know for what exactly. I then thought about my fitness. It is fucking hard to build muscle and lose body fat, why, because I am woman and God ordained fat to stick on my body steadfastly like how Mugabe holds onto power. I then flexed my nonexistent muscles and made a mental note to go to the gym from Monday. I miss Xoli. I miss Sabo too but she’s busy studying for exams and I must not disturb her. Every time I think of how to decorate my cage I think of her and her reaction which I think is odd- does she think of me too when she has random thoughts?
The fridge is buzzing and irritating the shits out of me- my nerves are on edge. I need to learn to meditate because I am not moving out anytime soon even though my soul is not settled.
Yesterday I had to rush to go get my passport because I may have an opportunity to go to England- at the current moment I feel I would like to stay there forever, just to get away from all the shit surrounding me. Anyway I decided to catch a taxi because driving there would stress me out, because I am an easily stressed person. The journey to Home Affairs and back would have required me to catch four taxis. I took the first taxi and when I reached the destination where I am supposed to take the second taxi, a man offered me a lift. He was driving a small van and told me to hop in the back. For some reason I did not think twice- I threw myself in there and he drove away fast. I looked at the vastness of land blur and happiness swelled within me. My adrenaline rushed because I felt like I was on a mini adventure- I knew in my soul that this is what my whole life is supposed to be like; a life of split decisions with strangers, it’s funny or it’s not funny considering the high crimes against women in South Africa but here I am, unharmed and typing my story out. The man dropped me of a few hundred meters from Home Affairs and I thanked him with both my mouth and money. The trip back from Home Affairs was not so great; a man in a taxi groped me, it was an uncomfortable ride back to the city. In a matter of hours I met two different men who showed me two extremes; one very kind and the other very creepy. I told the man to get his hand off me and asked the taxi to stop so I could get off. I then comforted myself by buying deep fried snoek fish. Why is it that women; even if they aren’t in the wrong, feel guilty for what has happened to them?
Is it because maybe their bodies responded physiologically? I don’t think it’s your fault that someone invades your space without your permission. Oh man we still have a long way to go correct the misconstrued way in which we think. It was Khaled Hosseini in his book A Thousand Splendid Suns who stated that the finger of men points blame to women like how a compass finds true north; no matter what situation, woman are always at fault- this type of thinking needs to change- I am speaking to myself as much as I am to you reading this. Speaking of books I finished The Girl who played with Fire and I loved Lisbeth Salander even more. I have to say the action of the story is on point but the writing lacks a lot of personal style and creativity; it is skilfully written but at times it reads like a movie turned into a book. I plan to go back to reading the classics after finishing the last book of the series.
I have to go back to work tomorrow- God help me- work on a Sunday is hell. I’m contemplating walking to work, I think it would be a walking distance of maybe three or four kilometres; I need the exercise and fresh air to clear my mind. The only major factor is that I have to be at work by six in the morning and that means I must be walking out my place by half five- it’s not a good idea because it is winter and it is fucking dark, the sun only starts rising at quarter past six. I’ll see in the morning what I’ll do. I’ll probably take the bus.
I’m starving a little; if such a thing exists; I am out of cash money, my bank account is in arrears, I only have coffee, hot chocolate and a few fruits to eat. I have to ration them our properly- I’m only getting paid on Tuesday and even then I have to pay the rent and some other bills. The perils of being an adult do not end, worse I’m a single dyke, and I have no beautiful lady onto which to rest my heavy head.
It is now midnight and I have to be up in five hours.