Well, I've decided to create a blog, having previously sneered at the very same. So as far fetched as it may sound, here I am to try and keep my intellect "exercised" for want of a better word. What has brought me to this point, is a rather long and complicated story I feel the need to purge, perhaps it will make me feel better... or not, as the case may be. It is however probably worth a try.
Allow me to set the scene. At 19 I left South Africa where I was born and raised, by one emotional vampire and an idol with clay feet, refered to as parents for the duration. I suppose they weren't bad parents. They tried and that is good enough for me. They got divorced before I turned 19 if I remember correctly. My mother removed herself from the family battlegrounds - although said battleground was more like those ghostly battlegrounds where all there was, was the ill feeling of battles never fought... If that makes sense - by moving to the United Kingdom. A year or so after that my younger brother(2 year gap) joined her, and shortly after that my youngest brother(16 year gap). I followed the family tradition of running away - seems to be in the blood line - in May 2002. May appears to have been a watershed in my life over the last few years. Everything of import generally happens in May, be it good or catestrophic, I'll let you in on why I make that determination a bit later.
While I was in the UK, I learned alot about the nature of being free, making your own choices, and screwing your life up without the pegs your parents usually use to keep one from folding categorically. However, I wouldn't give up the experience now, with the benefit of hindsight. Hindsight is a useful tool because by then the rose tinted glasses have shrivelled from one's youthful exhuberance, you know... that dreadfull thing those that have wasted away what they had or could've had, crave, and the dreadfull thing you don't realise is dreaful while you're in its clutches.
Point is, I fell for a man... or at least I thought it was a man at the time - so I married him at 22, yes we know this was a mistake, hindsight remember? He turned out to be gay. Which I really don't mind telling you really hurts a girl's dignity... Here is where it all becomes a bit complicated. He convinced me that we should elope without ever telling anyone. Sometimes I look back and think how the hell I could ever have been that naive... Anyway. the point is I never told my parents that I was married, or divorced for that matter. The whole sorry mess came to an abrupt end 2 days after our first wedding anniversary. Nice...
Anyway, I've moved on because well, there really isn't any other choice. So at least now I'm allowed to indulge my passive addiction for ink, although sometimes it really isn't that passive. For the record I'm 25 now. Fallable still, but more grounded it appears.
