Yesterday I received an education regarding the intricacies of the male mind. So many women go through life believing that they can fix anything. The Superwoman syndrome is how we’ve been engineered to approach all matters of the heart; if we love him enough he’ll change. If we love him through his flaws eventually he’ll have none. I blame Hans Christian Anderson, lying to my impressionable mind like that, because of him I wanted to be a mermaid once upon a time. Anyway enough about my fetishes…
My source says a guy knows how he feels about you within the first few weeks of him meeting you. If he didn’t see you as someone worth investing in then it won’t change just because you’ve been with him 10 years. This broke my heart because so many woman walk around believing they can change the men they meet, not even change per sae in as much as they believe they can make him love her right. Referencing my own life and my own experiences, I know that a guy who loves you will show you, there’ll be no guessing, no wondering if he loves you you’ll know. If you don’t know then he probably doesn’t.
Women can’t deal with life being this black and white, we need the colours to highlight our passionate love affair and really all guys want is a sandwich, a bizarre beard and to watch Barcelona show off yet again err maybe that’s just the President.
I know a woman who follows her boyfriend wherever his job takes him, last year they were in Egypt, this year they’re in Swaziland only the Lord knows where they’ll end up next year! But she’s willing to live in uncomfortable conditions, in countries she’d never even visit if she had the chance to vacate anywhere in the world with a man who made it clear in the beginning that he wasn’t interested in watching her walk coyly down the aisle. It makes me sad when she tells us over and over again that if he hasn’t proposed to her by the time she’s 35 she’s moving on. They’ve been dating for 2 years, 35 years old is 6 years away so she’ll give him 8 years to decide whether he wants to make an honest woman out of her! There is no way I’d live out of my suitcase like a gypsy for 8 years, cook, clean and perform other wifely duties for a man who needs that long to decide that he wants his kids to have my kind of awesome in their gene pool.
The point is ladies; if your mind’s made up about a guy and you’re still confused about what’s going on in his mind regarding you, if you cry and he turns the other way, if you’re constantly having to defend him and his questionable actions to the people who care about you, somewhere along this jagged line you need to ask yourself if you can handle a “forever” filled with tears, apologies and wondering. If you can indeed picture a forever like this then fear not there’s a special corner for you in heaven.
Tuesday, December 14, 2010
Thursday, December 9, 2010
Part 3: Roadtrip
A few things happened last Saturday that took the wind out of my sails. While my friends were dancing and I was with the President he looks into my eyes and says “I want to grow a Rick Ross beard.” You know when things happen in slow motion and your life flashes before your eyes while kitsch, over the top music plays in the background? So do I. So anyway I stared at him for a while and then proceeded to quietly get up from my chair and join my dancing friends, a dancing me makes more sense than putting Rick Ross’s beard on perfection.
The next thing that completely blew me away was right after Matt and the President left we were ready to whip out the PJ’s and get the real party started. So when I wore mine with my heels, I mean I just got dressed and joined my friends but on my way to them I passed a mirror. Pause. I just don’t know how I got so sexy and I didn’t even notice! I was just standing there catcalling myself, very schizo inspired Gemini-esque moment. So anyway I sauntered down the passage, flicking hair and swaying hips I sat down for my supper and thought about the President.
After dinner Sdu aka “Superwoman on Saturdays” cleared up and washed the dishes while Phindi dj’d, Mavu watched soccer and the rest of us were on the balcony shivering and stuff. I went downstairs and the next memorable moment happened; Sdu receives a call from a brave woman who says “ncesi sis please teach yourself not to call people’s boyfriends at this time of the night.” If you’ve never seen a group of angry Zulu women count yourself lucky because what happened next was hilarious and slightly scary. Sdu needs a phone with airtime, she needs to hide the number and now with everyone gathered around her she calls this lady and cusses her out, in about 2 minutes mayhem ensues, everyone starts grabbing the phone to tell this girl to not be insecure, and accept that her man is cheating on her, right after that someone says I’d never want anything to do with a man who installs burglar bars. The contradictions completely didn’t register in their inebriated minds, tsk tsk.
Then it was confession time and that’s all I’m saying about that. After the confessions the drinks were still flowing then PK and Phelekwa were playing in Ronewa’s pool, fast forward Phelekwa got cut in the lip by her glass, which had PK running downstairs screaming/slurring “OH MY WORD PHELZ IS BLEEDING, GUYS IT’S SERIOUS THERE’S BLOOD EVERYWHERE” now I don’t know about you but I almost never believe anything drunk people say so we ignored PK until Phelz came down stairs! Drunken people are so funny; how does drinking some more heal a cut lip? Khayo who is a paramedic was called to advise on the situation. I assume he did, I fell asleep somewhere around this time.
The following morning the friends and I had to say our goodbyes which was hard on the soul because the weekend we’d just shared was God’s way of saying he still loves us. The President in all his glory came by and the trip home began. I might blog about the trip home sometime but I have to go practice smiling with my eyes in the mirror, for when I’m famous you know. I got home at 19:30 that evening, my dad didn’t talk to me for 2 days and I think he called might have called me a whore, or maybe he said “close the door”. I’m tired, you’re awesome.
Stay beautiful.
The next thing that completely blew me away was right after Matt and the President left we were ready to whip out the PJ’s and get the real party started. So when I wore mine with my heels, I mean I just got dressed and joined my friends but on my way to them I passed a mirror. Pause. I just don’t know how I got so sexy and I didn’t even notice! I was just standing there catcalling myself, very schizo inspired Gemini-esque moment. So anyway I sauntered down the passage, flicking hair and swaying hips I sat down for my supper and thought about the President.
After dinner Sdu aka “Superwoman on Saturdays” cleared up and washed the dishes while Phindi dj’d, Mavu watched soccer and the rest of us were on the balcony shivering and stuff. I went downstairs and the next memorable moment happened; Sdu receives a call from a brave woman who says “ncesi sis please teach yourself not to call people’s boyfriends at this time of the night.” If you’ve never seen a group of angry Zulu women count yourself lucky because what happened next was hilarious and slightly scary. Sdu needs a phone with airtime, she needs to hide the number and now with everyone gathered around her she calls this lady and cusses her out, in about 2 minutes mayhem ensues, everyone starts grabbing the phone to tell this girl to not be insecure, and accept that her man is cheating on her, right after that someone says I’d never want anything to do with a man who installs burglar bars. The contradictions completely didn’t register in their inebriated minds, tsk tsk.
Then it was confession time and that’s all I’m saying about that. After the confessions the drinks were still flowing then PK and Phelekwa were playing in Ronewa’s pool, fast forward Phelekwa got cut in the lip by her glass, which had PK running downstairs screaming/slurring “OH MY WORD PHELZ IS BLEEDING, GUYS IT’S SERIOUS THERE’S BLOOD EVERYWHERE” now I don’t know about you but I almost never believe anything drunk people say so we ignored PK until Phelz came down stairs! Drunken people are so funny; how does drinking some more heal a cut lip? Khayo who is a paramedic was called to advise on the situation. I assume he did, I fell asleep somewhere around this time.
The following morning the friends and I had to say our goodbyes which was hard on the soul because the weekend we’d just shared was God’s way of saying he still loves us. The President in all his glory came by and the trip home began. I might blog about the trip home sometime but I have to go practice smiling with my eyes in the mirror, for when I’m famous you know. I got home at 19:30 that evening, my dad didn’t talk to me for 2 days and I think he called might have called me a whore, or maybe he said “close the door”. I’m tired, you’re awesome.
Stay beautiful.
Wednesday, December 8, 2010
Roadtrip Part 2
Saturday morning I woke up in stages, woken by different things, the incessant ringing of my phone, the comforting sound of Sdu walking up and down the passage and Sizo and PK noisily climbing into bed with me and Coco. Sizo’s older brother, Khayo walked into the bedroom after we were finally awake to make fun of our sexy morning faces and to dub me “tollgate” because of how horribly lost we got the previous night. He really should take his act on the road, he’s a riot.
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My awesomeness was too much for PK and Coco's still trying to extract some! |
The terror that broke Coco and I's peaceful slumber
Sdu’s neighbor was getting married Saturday so we had to be out of the house to attend the ceremony by 10:00, which was very optimistic considering we slept at 04:00. First things first, we needed to eat so we strolled to one of the many stalls that litter the streets of Soweto to buy tomatoes and bread. Let me digress for a while, I love Soweto, the vibe in that township is almost tangible, you can almost see the scars it has to live with after the Apartheid era, almost taste the blood on the streets, almost hear the music you know once permeated the atmosphere. It’s a strange feeling. Anyway when we got back to the house Sizo, our resident chef began whipping up a cordon bleu-esque breakfast.
She cleans up well
We were finally ready to go and be pretty at the wedding after hours of brushing hair, applying mascara and fighting for lip gloss. When we got there it was festive and the singing could be heard from around the corner, smiles all round. Pictures were taken at Thokoza Park, the bride looked stunning, the groom looked like the cat that got the cream; it was amazing.
Fast forward to the slumber party: Phindi fetches us from Southgate Mall in her Fiat Palio, all 6 of us! But before we “pushed” the car to Ormonde we had to buy drinks for the party later that evening, which was an experience on its own. Somewhere in the booze-filled aisles Sdu picks up a tour guide, and PK buys random alcohol, Sizo walked out with 24 Savannas: these are my friends. I bought a bottle of wine, which is probably still rolling around in Phindi’s fridge.
The drive to the house was filled with hooting and shouting, and hanging out of windows (that wasn’t so much celebratory in as much as it was necessary to keep from cramping) that same day was the Kaizer Chiefs and Orlando Pirates game, I don’t know much about soccer except for the fact that a yellow and black combo looks nicer to me than a black and white combo so I was the enemy in the car that day. We finally spilled out of Phindi’s car 10 minutes later and in no time the music was going the drinks were flowing and the good times were nigh.
The highlight of my night was the President coming over. This man. He came with one of his best friends and I’m always so nervous in situations like that, I just think what if they don’t get along with my friends (unlikely though because my friends are awesome). PK walks into the kitchen and says “oh my word guys sewufikile usbali wethu be cool”. When I went to the car I saw the President and Matt come out and Sizo standing near the Pres looking all shy (such an actress!) Hugs and introductions all round, then the dancing started, Matt, Sizo and PK got down Coco didn’t make it all the way “down” she was just hovering somewhere , Buhle was the designated photographer, I vaguely remember Bahle dancing, I should have focused more because that’s a rarity, but I was too busy being awesome with the President.
I’m tired of blogging, part 3 might go up tomorrow, I never could summarise.
Stay beautiful.
It's not as easy as we make it look.
Tuesday, December 7, 2010
Roadtrip!
A few weeks ago (or it may have been months ago) I blogged about being tired from wearing so many hats. That exhaustion has been catching up with me, slowly. So last week I took leave from work, not a lot just enough to recharge and muster up enough energy to get to the end of the year still awesome.
I had to go to Mbabane and get a passport on Thursday morning. Usually the whole process takes approximately 4 – 6 weeks. I was going to get it in 1 day because my dad knows a friend of a friend…who has a cousin! So anyway my Dad and I make our way to Home affairs very optimistic and when I woke up that morning I decided that I wouldn’t dress up because Home affairs is such a schlep! So I wear a t-shirt, jeans and pumps – this is my Superwoman, no-nonsense outfit so when I meet my Dad by the car and he’s looking all kinds of suave I had to stop and ask myself if he’d forgotten about our trip like why the hectic threads, and he says to me “Sisi it would have been an idea for you to wear a skirt” I side-eyed him and adjusted my jeans. I hate the way some Swazi’s think, but that’s a post for another day.
So we got to Mbabane and surprisingly it went well - surprising because I have the worst of luck when it comes to things that need stamps or need to be issued in my direction. But the chair swiveling Home affairs gods must have been in a good mood because I left with a passport on Thursday…now for the good times.
I travelled to Joburg with the President on Friday, we left at 15:00, such daredevils! It was our first road trip so we had to make it memorable. If you ask anyone who knows me well I really try not to disappoint people I love, so the President was in good hands. About 30 minutes after we crossed the border my endearing car sickness reared its sexy head; tell me, who can resist a girl who throws up in their car? Well I didn’t throw up in the car but it was close, he pulled over right on time and I got really sick on the side of the road! Mortified doesn’t quite begin to describe or insinuate how horribly embarrassed I was, I couldn’t turn around and look at him, I was just thinking “great now I’ll always be, Nono the one who almost threw up in the car”. But true awesomeness cannot be stifled so I got up cleaned up walked to the front seat but now the President was blocking my path (I almost tackled him) and this is when I found out that I was banished to the backseat because I had become a safety (and swagger) risk in front.
I curled up in the backseat, resigned to my fate, and I eventually fell asleep. The President pulled into an Ultra city and I woke up then and went to buy drinks and got high on fresh air. When we got back to the car I used my feminine wiles to get myself back in the front seat. Then I felt the nausea come back again. Cue backseat.
We finally got to Joburg around 19:30. This is where I should point out that the President is amazing at a lot of things but not so much at being patient. We drove around and around, we kept missing turns and kept getting terribly lost, take my word for it touring Joburg at night with a grumpy driver is not ideal. Coco gave useless directions, bless her heart, but she did wait for me till 21:30 that evening. When we eventually got to Coco, the President and I said our goodnights and only then did I realize that between getting lost and being grumpy I hadn’t even fed the poor man. Fail.
By the time we got to Soweto it was about 22:30. I was tired I really just needed to talk to the President and sleep, but my friends hadn’t seen me in 11 months they had other ideas. My not-so-subtle yawns went by completely unnoticed, we waited for Sizo who had a work function to attend, and “Cinderella” only saunters in at 02:00 both glass slippers still on her feet (and she had the pumpkin in her purse)! We spoke, tried on clothes, took pictures, ate, laughed till we cried and cried till we laughed. It was therapy. Sizo followed Coco and I to the bedroom at 02:30 and we chatted until 04:00 it was like back at res when we’d lock the door and pretend we’re not in. PK the other musketeer was passed out on the couch. Smh. More about her next time!
This post is already too long, and I have to get back to being amazing…part 2 tomorrow.
I had to go to Mbabane and get a passport on Thursday morning. Usually the whole process takes approximately 4 – 6 weeks. I was going to get it in 1 day because my dad knows a friend of a friend…who has a cousin! So anyway my Dad and I make our way to Home affairs very optimistic and when I woke up that morning I decided that I wouldn’t dress up because Home affairs is such a schlep! So I wear a t-shirt, jeans and pumps – this is my Superwoman, no-nonsense outfit so when I meet my Dad by the car and he’s looking all kinds of suave I had to stop and ask myself if he’d forgotten about our trip like why the hectic threads, and he says to me “Sisi it would have been an idea for you to wear a skirt” I side-eyed him and adjusted my jeans. I hate the way some Swazi’s think, but that’s a post for another day.
So we got to Mbabane and surprisingly it went well - surprising because I have the worst of luck when it comes to things that need stamps or need to be issued in my direction. But the chair swiveling Home affairs gods must have been in a good mood because I left with a passport on Thursday…now for the good times.
I travelled to Joburg with the President on Friday, we left at 15:00, such daredevils! It was our first road trip so we had to make it memorable. If you ask anyone who knows me well I really try not to disappoint people I love, so the President was in good hands. About 30 minutes after we crossed the border my endearing car sickness reared its sexy head; tell me, who can resist a girl who throws up in their car? Well I didn’t throw up in the car but it was close, he pulled over right on time and I got really sick on the side of the road! Mortified doesn’t quite begin to describe or insinuate how horribly embarrassed I was, I couldn’t turn around and look at him, I was just thinking “great now I’ll always be, Nono the one who almost threw up in the car”. But true awesomeness cannot be stifled so I got up cleaned up walked to the front seat but now the President was blocking my path (I almost tackled him) and this is when I found out that I was banished to the backseat because I had become a safety (and swagger) risk in front.
I curled up in the backseat, resigned to my fate, and I eventually fell asleep. The President pulled into an Ultra city and I woke up then and went to buy drinks and got high on fresh air. When we got back to the car I used my feminine wiles to get myself back in the front seat. Then I felt the nausea come back again. Cue backseat.
We finally got to Joburg around 19:30. This is where I should point out that the President is amazing at a lot of things but not so much at being patient. We drove around and around, we kept missing turns and kept getting terribly lost, take my word for it touring Joburg at night with a grumpy driver is not ideal. Coco gave useless directions, bless her heart, but she did wait for me till 21:30 that evening. When we eventually got to Coco, the President and I said our goodnights and only then did I realize that between getting lost and being grumpy I hadn’t even fed the poor man. Fail.
By the time we got to Soweto it was about 22:30. I was tired I really just needed to talk to the President and sleep, but my friends hadn’t seen me in 11 months they had other ideas. My not-so-subtle yawns went by completely unnoticed, we waited for Sizo who had a work function to attend, and “Cinderella” only saunters in at 02:00 both glass slippers still on her feet (and she had the pumpkin in her purse)! We spoke, tried on clothes, took pictures, ate, laughed till we cried and cried till we laughed. It was therapy. Sizo followed Coco and I to the bedroom at 02:30 and we chatted until 04:00 it was like back at res when we’d lock the door and pretend we’re not in. PK the other musketeer was passed out on the couch. Smh. More about her next time!
This post is already too long, and I have to get back to being amazing…part 2 tomorrow.
Wednesday, December 1, 2010
Awesome is as awesome does
Yesterday I discussed, race, absolute truth, right & wrong etc. Before I go too far with this post I must just say that my absolute truth is that I am awesome. Everything I do is based on this unchangeable, undisputable, scientifically proven fact. Which is why when I meet people who don't like me I am genuinely surprised 'cause I mean who doesn't like awesome??
Seriously though, I haven't always held myself in high regard. People's opinions of me were too effective in shaping my opinion of myself. I'm shy, humble and unobtrusive; I'm also smart, quick-witted and unforgettable. No really. But to get to the wit and the unforgettableness Nat King Cole crooned about you have to forge a way through the shyness, it's not an easy road. So because I'm the type of person who uses silence where others prefer words people wrote me off as not awesome. Blasphemy I know.
As usual I digress, my point is that when I stopped focusing so much on what you thought of me I was able to love me more and bring forth the awesomeness I was stifling in order to fit perfectly into the boring mold cut out for me. Once I had that no one could tell me that just because I'd rather stay in than go out I'm not awesome, that because I'd rather read a book than go drinking I'm lame...some friends have tried but well funeral songs were sung soon after.
Yesterday a friend of mine posted a link on her Facebook page about Afrikaans author Annelie Botes who made this statement in an interview in response to the question "What don't you like?"
"I know my answer will shock some people but I don't like black people, I don't trust them. If they're hungry why don't they, like in the old days, break in, steal the fridge and not harm anyone. Why are they so angry? I'm sorry my neighbour was killed brutally and for what?"
I had to re-read this statement a few times before I realised that it wasn't anger or shame I was feeling, but I pitied her in the same way I pity my father who still has residual feelings towards ALL white people about Apartheid.
The way I began the post was actually so I could allude to it now. If I still allowed people's opinions of me to affect what I think of me I wouldn't be able to face all my white colleagues at work after reading that lady's thoughts, but she's just one woman, that's just one opinion. This doesn't mean I agree with her or condone her being that narrow-minded but my point is whatever she thinks is a burden on her. Someone somewhere sometime once said "it's not what you call me, it's what I answer to" and in case you missed the whole point of this post, I answer to awesome.
Seriously though, I haven't always held myself in high regard. People's opinions of me were too effective in shaping my opinion of myself. I'm shy, humble and unobtrusive; I'm also smart, quick-witted and unforgettable. No really. But to get to the wit and the unforgettableness Nat King Cole crooned about you have to forge a way through the shyness, it's not an easy road. So because I'm the type of person who uses silence where others prefer words people wrote me off as not awesome. Blasphemy I know.
As usual I digress, my point is that when I stopped focusing so much on what you thought of me I was able to love me more and bring forth the awesomeness I was stifling in order to fit perfectly into the boring mold cut out for me. Once I had that no one could tell me that just because I'd rather stay in than go out I'm not awesome, that because I'd rather read a book than go drinking I'm lame...some friends have tried but well funeral songs were sung soon after.
Yesterday a friend of mine posted a link on her Facebook page about Afrikaans author Annelie Botes who made this statement in an interview in response to the question "What don't you like?"
"I know my answer will shock some people but I don't like black people, I don't trust them. If they're hungry why don't they, like in the old days, break in, steal the fridge and not harm anyone. Why are they so angry? I'm sorry my neighbour was killed brutally and for what?"
I had to re-read this statement a few times before I realised that it wasn't anger or shame I was feeling, but I pitied her in the same way I pity my father who still has residual feelings towards ALL white people about Apartheid.
The way I began the post was actually so I could allude to it now. If I still allowed people's opinions of me to affect what I think of me I wouldn't be able to face all my white colleagues at work after reading that lady's thoughts, but she's just one woman, that's just one opinion. This doesn't mean I agree with her or condone her being that narrow-minded but my point is whatever she thinks is a burden on her. Someone somewhere sometime once said "it's not what you call me, it's what I answer to" and in case you missed the whole point of this post, I answer to awesome.
Monday, November 22, 2010
My slice of happiness
My life continues to amaze me. Little blessings, small mercies. My sisters make me laugh till my stomach hurts, my Dad continues to share his pearls of wisdom, my mom is still trying to find out what's going on in my life by interrogating my sisters who are useless allies to have. "I thank you God for this most amazing" ee cummings knew what was up when he wrote that poem. It feels like my personal life is finally where it should be.
I'm happy, nervous, anxious, moody but just very happy right through that kaleidoscope of emotions. My sisters have the strangest conversations, yesterday Tema, my 12 year old sister walks into Ayanda's bedroom and Ayanda had just woken up from a nap. Tema sits at the foot of her bed and stares at her. Pause.
Ayanda "What are you doing?"
Tema "Nothing, I just want to spend time with you."
Cute or creepy. But this is my life, these are the people I live with.
I've also found a slice of happiness too but that's all I'll say for now. I've found my smile again and I don't know how to switch it off. I don't want to switch it off.
Life hasn't been without it's hurdles but I used to be an athlete many moons ago so it ain't even no thang!
God's been great. My life's been behaving. I'm in a good place and I'd like to stay here for as long as possible before the train pulls out and takes me to the next stop.
I'm happy, nervous, anxious, moody but just very happy right through that kaleidoscope of emotions. My sisters have the strangest conversations, yesterday Tema, my 12 year old sister walks into Ayanda's bedroom and Ayanda had just woken up from a nap. Tema sits at the foot of her bed and stares at her. Pause.
Ayanda "What are you doing?"
Tema "Nothing, I just want to spend time with you."
Cute or creepy. But this is my life, these are the people I live with.
I've also found a slice of happiness too but that's all I'll say for now. I've found my smile again and I don't know how to switch it off. I don't want to switch it off.
Life hasn't been without it's hurdles but I used to be an athlete many moons ago so it ain't even no thang!
God's been great. My life's been behaving. I'm in a good place and I'd like to stay here for as long as possible before the train pulls out and takes me to the next stop.
Tuesday, November 9, 2010
Still smiling
I've neglected my digital homies for a while now. My life has just been a rollercoaster ride, without the restraints to stop me falling on my head. I've been feeling pulled and pushed every which way, and maybe the reason I haven't been coping as well as usual is because I haven't put pen to paper (you know what I mean) in a while.
My head is spinning, my heart is racing, I just wish everything could slow down and let me catch a breath but time waits for no man. No matter how awesome. I need a hiatus, get away from everyone, everything and regroup, take things back to the drawing board, outline my aims and objectives. I get so caught up with trying to make sure everyone's happy, my smile is always ready to brighten up someone's day. There's a cliche; "smiling at someone takes nothing away from the giver" (I actually may have just made that up). Anyway I discovered that that's not altogether true, smiling when you really have no business to is taxing, slowly eating away at you until your smile carries no weight. I've spent the last few weeks smiling at everyone and I just recently realised that I've done very little smiling to the pretty something in the mirror.
Anyway, don't you guys ever get the feeling that if you talk about something too much it just gets weird like I may never smile again 'cause: see previous paragraph! But as usual I digress.
Stressed, neurotic, happy, excited - no matter how I feel I stay awesome. Someone's gotta do it.
My head is spinning, my heart is racing, I just wish everything could slow down and let me catch a breath but time waits for no man. No matter how awesome. I need a hiatus, get away from everyone, everything and regroup, take things back to the drawing board, outline my aims and objectives. I get so caught up with trying to make sure everyone's happy, my smile is always ready to brighten up someone's day. There's a cliche; "smiling at someone takes nothing away from the giver" (I actually may have just made that up). Anyway I discovered that that's not altogether true, smiling when you really have no business to is taxing, slowly eating away at you until your smile carries no weight. I've spent the last few weeks smiling at everyone and I just recently realised that I've done very little smiling to the pretty something in the mirror.
Anyway, don't you guys ever get the feeling that if you talk about something too much it just gets weird like I may never smile again 'cause: see previous paragraph! But as usual I digress.
Stressed, neurotic, happy, excited - no matter how I feel I stay awesome. Someone's gotta do it.
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