Day 297-304: Where Do Palpitating Hearts go? Part II

He had stepped out of the car and he had left his phone behind. Before this, I would never had gone through his phone but he occasionally goes through mine and I needed to see that him and M were really just friends. So I went to his inbox.

All these I LOVE YOU messages from some number saved under some weird name... Let's call it A. For a while, I stopped breathing as I quickly scanned though the texts... Lots of them. So many that it was a while til I say my name and mind you, I had texted him last night. There were so many lovey-dovey texts I got the feeling that he had to be responding or even initiating chats of a similar fashion. I quickly checked his Sent Items and there wasn't a shred of evidence. Very strange. Maybe he doesn't save his outgoing messages. Or maybe he just has much to hide. Either way, its just dodge. I have the exact same phone and all my messages are automatically saved with lil to no memory issues.

So I checked his outgoing calls and he had called A just 30 minutes before all this. I took the number and called it off my own phone after changing my settings to private number. So brat answered the phone. I figured that to be M's cheeky, disrespectful lil brother. His name must be A. He confirmed it but he wouldn't let me speak to M without me giving him a name first. I was on the verge of tears, gasping for air, so I stopped begging him and hung up.

I put Cutie's phone back in its original spot and tried to remain calm as my head spun. Cutie took forever to come back. It felt like forever. But it was probably only five minutes. I was even able to call P and sob into the phone and even calm myself. Tears only came when I spoke about it. By the time he had returned, I was calmer.

But he still took one look at me and knew that something was wrong. I couldn't even look at him. And I swear that my supper was creeping its way up my throat. Gross. I felt ill. I had the shakes. My heart was beating fast and my stomach was performing sommersaults. Not cool. I jus wanted to run at that point. Run far away. Pretend that I don't know.

He stepped out again. This time he took his phone. And that's when I knew that he knew that I knew. When he returned, I remained quiet except for when I was talking to P on the phone, tryna find out where she is so that I can tell her what just transpired.

I had so much to say to him but no words came out. My head was flooded with his betrayal. I needed to forget. So bad. No such luck hence why I'm awake at 04.12. Well, as soon as P heard the story, she was all for me calling her and getting the facts. I was too shaken to call. My voice was trembling and so was my body... In 30 degree celcios heat. For those few minutes I was a freak of nature.

So P called her. No bratty answer on the other end. M answered and after a brief explanation that Cutie is a colleague that P thinks is cheating- M was ready to talk. Although I have a feeling that she wasn't telling the entire truth as far as the depths of her relationship with him.

Discrepancy 1:
M stays in the West, not the South.
Discrepancy 2:
M says that her and Cutie are best friends. This is news to me.
Discrepancy 3:
M was sick with an ulcer not a gynea infection. He told me that's what she had.
Discrepancy 4:
M says that she hasn't seen Cutie in a week. He told me he was with her last night, dropping off meds.
Discrepancy 5:
M says that Cutie has been dating N for three years since tertiary. He's never mentioned an N and if I hadn't seen it on the pharmacy bill, I would've been even more shocked.

So now what? He missed called me at about 23.30. I was sleeping at that time. Fortunately. P's conversation with M took place just before 20.30. I'm sure M told him about the 3rd Degree. He had three hours to cook up a story. Now we wait. Coz I really don't know what to say to him. And I hate that he has forced me to play "CHEATERS" and policeman! And yet I'm hoping for an explanation but I know that's not possible. And now, I just feel like vomiting, throwing up all my bad feelings.

Day 139-153: Untitled.

I've always thought it to be such a cop-out when artists can't just name their products. I've always found the use of the term 'untitled' to be the unnecessary pretence of so called 'depth' within the arts. And here I am, using the very same word. how hypocritical. Truth is, it's been a minute since I last blogged so I finding it difficult to reduce the past fortnight into a silly phrase especially since the 180 Days are drawing to an end. So In spite of my being conscious that I may be thinking emotionally because of my PMS, I now see how artists may feel that a title, in its simple words, fails to honor the experience, whether good or bad. If anything, the words disrespect it by being so shallow. And that's where the depth of thought lies. Well, if writers felt so strongly about everything, they would probably never write. Hence writer's block. The insistence on the perfect translation. And that's why film was created...

That just dawned on me now... Speaking of which... Let's recap... With the radio internship winding down, I'm happy to say I'm creating the best radio of my life. My links are short and punchy and fun and cool... although I gots to work on my um's and er's and slickness... but for the most part, I really believe that I'm sounding better than ever. I even received my first batch of hate mail, thanx to the internet humour surrounding MJ's passing. Now you know what they say, you ain't ish until you've got haters. I've finally relaxed enough to allow the real me to come out through my radio links. And for me that's the biggest accomplishment. I'm hopin that they gimme a proper on-air gig once the internship is over. I'm do my darnest to make it happen. If only there were enough hours in the day because since my new job, my radio endeavours have taken a beating... which makes me wonder... what is it that I really want? Could I possibly be biting of my nose to spite my face? Should I be concentrating on my radio gig especially as the gig draws to an end or concentrate on my new gig because of the latter?

As far as my new job is concerned... I just started at a TV production company on this brand new show. Unlike my previous TV gig... I work on content full-time now. I would prefer to be writing scripts and have far more control over content but they say that will come. Quite a bit goes into a TV show and I'm learning quite a bit. Very exciting to be part of something that has so much potential.

As far as Cutie is concerned... It's plenty deja-vu. Dating without the intimacy and titles. Like where do I meet these 'different' niggas that are commitment-phobic with trunks of baggage? Seriously? Is this God's way of telling me to stay away from the opposite sex. or is the Script-Writer outta ideas? I mean like attracts like... If these niggas be on that tip then clearly I ain't ready for a relationship either but then why am I so convinced of the opposite. How come I feel that I can be with one dude.. and make it work?! And yet I keep hitting a brick-wall by connecting with niggas that make me want to fall in love and be with them when they aren't so keen to do the same... What the hell is going on?

What I do know for sure is that beyond these niggas hold the key to my personal-development... I think... well, I hope... there's gots to be some sorta convoluted reason for all this drama... In which ever capacity. I wouldn't be able to deal with Cutie if I hadn't dealt with Shorty. But maybe I would prefer to not have had to deal with either dude... as much as I love zinging with new dude... I can't stand ll the drama! Can't I just meet a normal dude that digs me back and wants me without any hesitations or a haunting past!? Cumon already!

As far as my career is concerned... I just started at a TV production company on this brand new show. Unlike my previous TV gig... I work on content full-time now. I would prefer to be writing scripts and have far more control over content but they say that will come. Quite a bit goes into a TV show and I'm learning quite a bit. Very exciting to be part of something that has so much potential. And boy are we working hard to unleash it...

what else... I got as ride but I can't drive it coz I don't have a driver's license... lol...come to think of it... it's very much like dating somebody that you can't kiss and you can't call your boyfriend. Imagine all the pent up frustration! Dammit! I ain't about to return my car, instead, I'ma work at getting the right papers... is that how one should deal with Cutie? Get me some papers? the cred? the qualification? Earn the respect perhaps? Show my commitment? mm...

Day 79-80: Make Your Mark!

Disclaimer: South Africa is currently at the height of election fever so be prepared for a few too many election puns... Let's go! But now that I'm fully conscious of not tryna slip one in, I bet I'll have none... Um... Forget I said nothing...

Meanwhile back at the ranch...

Shakespeare said that 'some men are born great, some achieve greatness and some have greatness thrust upon them.'

I figure that Shakespeare was born great or maybe even just achieved greatness. But you must be hella special from birth to have the whole world consider you the greatest writer that ever lived. I wonder if he realised his worth or even struggled to make sense of his thoughts... You think he ever suffered from writer's block and if so, how did he curb it? Or maybe he experienced the exact opposite, an overwhelming array of thought... What about his confidence? Did he ever doubt his gift or his work? Or did he just do what comes naturally?

Doesn't it in many ways, read like the Benjamin Button story? Benji was born old, hella special but does that neccesarily equal great? Or was greatness thrust upon him?


I figure I'm one of those people that's has to toil through the mud, fight off the flies just to achieve the greatness... So I can't be surprised when many people view my blog as though it's the pscho ramblings of a desperately lonely, unispired individual...

I hear that the nosy newsroom been discussing the particulars of my blog. They tryna figure who is who. I guess the pseudonyms aren't as obvious as I thought.

Either way, Brandy figures that I should be careful about what I put up coz all kinds of people are getting an insight into my life.

There really is no way that I'm shutting down this blog. When I write my posts, I really don't consider the audience. Yes, I realise that I share some hella personal details and inner most thoughts but it is what it is. And I figure that anybody on any self-discovery journey appreciates the honesty coz we all experience drama in our lives.

Yes, I'm honest. Maybe a lil too honest. But where's the line? I'd rather be over the top I guess. Truthfully, I'd rather be laughed at for being honest than be honoured for buying face.

Go hard or go home! That's my word. What's meant to be will be. Many people been tryna tell me that I should not just focus on being a DJ and should instead set my eyes on something that will get my foot in the door. I dunno hey. I gots my eye on the ball and I ain't tryna settle for second best. Aim for the moon so that you when you fall you can land on a star.

We've been covering the elections and chasing stories. It's been hectic. I rather enjoyed being out on the field, writing stories from there. That was fun and intense. Hella exciting. And that feeling that I live for, that excitement was rushing through my body. Loved it! But I know that being a DJ is ten times that so I can I possibly settle... mmm... so why am I settling when it comes to a man... Good Question... Will tackle that later...

Day 78: Girl Talk- Blessin' or Bitchin'?

I come from an all girls high school. That background shaped much of my personality. There are two types of females in a single sex institution- the strong, bossy Miss Independent type versus the shrunken violet type who's hella vulnerable and tries to impress her peers by engaging in dodgy behaviour.

From my black n white view of the situation, many situations, it's clear that I fall into the former category. I consciously avoided being friends with many girls, especially plastics because of the lack of trustworthiness and the fierce competitive spirit that was enforced upon us via academic and extra-curricular colours and awards.

Put in work/ If you don't want the girl to talk/ And you don't want your feelings hurt/ Put in work/ Cause if you don't/ That girl's just gon' go spreadin' the word

Even though I am able to share some laughs with Ms Fabulous and The Girls... Hell even though Ms Fabulous shares my birthday... Truth is we couldn't be more different. I don't do weaves or wigs or make-up or jangly jewellery or gold chains or black-berries or tight fitting denim or hectic gym or heels or open slingy sandals or skimpy dresses. That sorta outward glam is just not my steez.

Ever since I can remember, I've never been crazy about the concept of money. And even though I adore being spoilt by a man, I cringe everytime the bill comes. I have to literally fight the urge to reach inside my purse. Come to think of it, I get the same feeling when I pass a hobo or a street musician. Even when I'm broke so broke that I literally can't afford to give away a rand, I sometimes will, hoping that Mother Dearest will sort me out later. I actually try not to give out less than R5 coz anything less really amounts to nothing in today's inflation. But if I ain't got it, oh well, it's better than giving nothing. I feel so bad when I don't give. I feel worse when I allow a nigga to cover everything... When I'm that chick that gets picked up and dropped off and paid off... I mean dude... I feel like I'm using dude... Or like dude is investing time and money and I'm just there... A financial burden. Relationships aren't cheap... And with my (just below) two grand stipend, two series and residence in Pretoria (50km away from the events hub that is Jozi), I can't afford much right now. Especially now that I've taken an extended hiatus from writing:) And because I'm an accountant at heart (and academically), I'm accustomed to working for my own money instead of accepting hand-outs from Mother-Dearest. I often have to stop my brain from automatically calculating the costs that my date may be incurring. So when Shorty told me that he wouldn't be able to take me home on Saturday coz of a tight financial situation, I was not over the moon but I was understanding. I was also mildly impressed at his candour but I mostly found myself cringing, as usual, at the mere mention of money.

The Girls figure that I'm wasting my time on a dead-end situation with Shorty and I should be getting pampered and spoilt by a more 'financially-focussed' man who can wine and dine me to my heart's content.


Now I'ain't sayin she a goldigga/ But she ain't messing with a broke nigga...

It takes a lot to pull at my heart-strings. And money is the absolute last thing on my list... Hell did I even mention it on to the list, last time?

Paul was my broke-ass toy-boy and while I was ok with playing the sugar-momma to a 20 year-old, I couldn't help but resent the way that he couldn't just spoil me whenever. But I felt worse for expecting something, anything when he was clearly unable to afford it. So I would pay even when he wanted to coz the-accountant-in-me wouldn't allow him to spend what could possibly be his last monies.

So you can imagine what a significant adjustment it has been to date someone who actually can afford to treat me to a thing or two (well... Most of the time...)

Funny thing happened, The Girls were so determined to have me move on and move up (lol like I BEEN threatening to) that one of them typed out a break up text. I wasn't about to send it. Atleast not yet. That's the thing about calling something off, you gots to be prepared to be done for good. I don't break up with people for reactions anymore. It's important to mean it coz you dealing with another human being, they are known to be unpredictable when their backs are against the wall. Plus at the end of the day, you gots to live with your decision, not your friends. If I am making a mistake, atleast I made it myself so I'll take full responsibility for it. But living through others can only result in unwarranted resentment. I'm a grown ass woman. Umma do me!

So where's the line? Nigga gots to have a job right. You ain't gotta make millions but can we atleast check out a play at the State Theatre!?

Day 74-77: Breathe n Stop...

I guess it can't really end until you're ready to let go. As in, you're not still pining or reminiscing or fantasising... Until those good memories are only that and not an urge to make some more... Otherwise you are still pretty much in the thick of things despite your denial and determination to move on.

As much as I wanna just be over this Shorty saga, truth is that the disgust has returned to just being good ol typical mistrust-fueled con-fuss-ion.

I don't know what's right and what's real anymore/ I don't know how I'm meant to feel anymore/ And when do you think that it will all become clear/ Coz I'm being taken over by The Fear...

The very day after I wrote my last blog, Shorty again failed to return my stuff even though I had expressly reminded him and he had expressly committed to doing so. But I guess what did I expect, nigga BEEN flakey! That was what I thought to my myself as he pitched up empty-handed on yet another occasion.

Honestly, I was more bothered by the fact that I'd have to deal with him again when he finally sticks to his word. I had no clue how that would pan out coz just the sight of him disgusted me. No, he had not turned ugly overnight but the thought of his betrayal had me trippin. So I kept my words to a minimum. I must have managed about five. Whenever he was within my proximity, I walked away. I knew that if I opened my mouth to exchange more than a greeting, I'd scream at him and maybe even make a scene. Dude, I was fuming. My insides were puffed up and the blood was boiling. I felt my ears get hot and forced myself to get some water from the kitchen.

He did well to seem unaware of my mood by not bothering to enquire about it. Which was just as well coz I needed to cool it clearly.

The following day was hella busy in the newsroom. Whoopdedoo! This time, Short pitched with my stuff. SUPRISED, SUPRISE! You coulda knocked me over with a feather. An ambiguous feeling fell over me. Firstly, Joy coz my damn camera was safely back in my possession and as I flipped through the pictures, I was a lil disappointed to find no evidence of his deception. Dammit this nigga managed to delete everything, I thought. Not that it's a difficult device to navigate but really Shorty has no clue when it comes to technology. It's quite laughable. One hella juxtaposition compared to his modern appearance and vibe. And boy did he look good. Hotdammm! It left me wondering where the disgust had gone. Actually the disgust faded when he denied all the allegations levelled against him [Yho the newsroom gots me talking crazy]. Goodness how gullible am I? Or rather, how hectically do I want this nigga to be in the clear? Or worse, how bad have I got it?

Exit Lily Allen stage left.
Enter Keri Hilson stage right.

Sometimes [like] comes around/ And it knocks you down/ Get back up/ When it knocks you down/ Knocks you down....

The plaster was only coming off my walls because I had anticipated the worst and the worst had not quite arrived. Yeah... Come to think of it, it was rather silly of me to think that he would admit to having his arms around another woman. And I actually articulated as much but I was more relieved for his denial than anything. He may have thought to be dismissive but as soon as he saw how I was not budging or smiling, he decided against it and adopted the ' you know I'm crazy about you' stance....

Exit Keri Hilson.
Enter the Cadbury man...
'...And all resistance crumbles...'

Dude! You telling me that I gots to get mad just so that this nigga can gimme some proper attention. Obviously I wasn't thinking all of that at the time. Unfortunately, rationality is hella sparse during times like these.

I don't know how but he managed to cast doubt over Ms Fabulous's observations. It's as logical as reckoning that she needs to get her eyes checked. He figures that he wouldn't be hollering at some girl if he knew Ms Fabulous was looking. He also spoke of how he appreciates me being in his corner and he wouldn't wanna mess that up.

Exit Cadbury Man.
Insert puppy dog eyes here.

That Friday night he drunk-dialled me and pretty much reiterated his words from the afternoon. Frankly we've heard these before... That he'll make it up to me (um, what's he gonna fix if he didn't do anything wrong... Oh for not telling the Mos Def chick to go fly a kite instead of 'tacitly' entertaining it) and he is gonna work harder at this. He said everything but declare his undying love. And when he called Saturday morning, he was well-aware of the late-night telecon. [insert RELIEF here]

I been giggly since.
[insert Lily Allen ENCORE here]

I dunno hey. I really don't. I like him so much that I'm being blind or rather, I'm choosing to turn a blind eye and make up excuses for days... That's some power he got over me...

I hope to goodness, I'm wrong about this dread and mistrust. To goodness. As much as I'd hate to be a fool, I'd hate to have to change the way I look at him more...

Day 67-70: Frontin'

I often blog, hoping to locate a resolution within the text. Especially when I'm struggling to express myself verbally, I find that writing organises the con-fuss-ion.

It's pretty much in the same vein as when I teach my Sunday School kids. By explaining to them, I grasp the concept better. Writing amounts to explaining to the self. No wonder school teachers often insist on pupils summarising study material into their own words. Coz you figure more via that method...

Where am I going with this?
Dunno really. I'm just hoping to figure out the Easter weekend.

The last time I blogged, I thought that Shorty and I we're pretty much nearing the end of our lil escapade. In fact, I still haven't resaved his digits [just in case I turn out to be right, I guess].
The irony is that his digits now appear on my screen more than they ever did.

That translates into two things...
1. It's a wonder that I don't know his number off by heart by now. But honestly I'm making a concerted effort not to commit the last seven digits to memory. My eyes merely scan over them.
2. Somebody been reading the blog and stepped it up. Well, he admitted as much. But before we tackle that...

I was more than prepared to have to walk away. Well, my defences were/are up. And I was hella impressed with myself for having not gotten hectically physical with him. In over a month, in fact only recently, have we gotten as far as second base. That's huge for me. This whole thing is hugely different. But question is, is it good different or bad different? Now that he's putting in some effort, I really dunno what to think or feel. Does it really amount to effort or merely convenience? I mean it's not like he's going out of his way.

I don't think I like him any less but I'm still not sure if he really likes me period. Which makes me less enthusiastic. To the point where I wonder why he bothers.

Honestly I just have a wierd feeling that something's off. I only have this feeling. So I can't get serious or be serious about this. That would be dumb. I'll hang with the nigga but I ain't expecting the moon or stars. Just a good time. Like Carev [from Grey's] said, 'if it works out, great. If not, it's ok, I'll get over it. I always do!'

That pretty much sums up the past few days. I'm less than impressed by his inability to let me know when he's delayed or caught up. It feels disrespectful. In fact it reminds me of my hip hop ex. He simply was never aware of the time as far as I was concerned. In his head, it was ok to completely disregard my feelings and make me wait. Wtf? So I kicked him to the curb on numerous occasions after he pleaded for forgiveness on numerous occasions. In fact, I haven't spoken to that nigga since the beginning of the year.

Another thing that's of concern is Shorty's near discomfort around me. He ain't completely relaxed.


Oh, it tears me up/ I tried to hold on but it hurts too much/ I tried to forgive but it's not enough/ To make it all okay...
You can't play on broken strings/ You can't feel anything/ That your heart don't want to feel/ I cant tell u something that ain't real/ The truth hurts/ A lie's worse/ How can I give anymore/ When I (like) you a lil less than before...

And maybe that's the basis for my doubt. But how do I explain that or draw some answers out of him. Even though he claims to be reading this blog, he was not about to discuss it. And I was not about to push for that. He says he's a man of few words. I think he just doesn't want to hurt me. Yet, he's often said that if he didn't wanna hang out, he'd let me know... So I'm back at square one, wondering what am I missing? What is it that isn't adding up? My gut is screaming something but what?

Is he maybe still in love with an ex? [he still ain't comfortable with us holding hands. Um we make out and then act like a plutonic couple afterwards? Huh!] What? Hence my detachment. If I'm detached then whatever bombshell that's about to explode will be relatively harmless...

You know what's funny, by now, with any other guy, I'd be wondering if we are like boyfriend and girlfriend now. My head's not there now. I'm still getting my head around understanding Shorty. That's more than enough to deal with. Plus, I rather like this taking it slow thing. It's teaching me patience. And wouldn't you know, my cursing has decreased a lot except in cases of ecstasy lol. Seriously.

You know what would suck is if I found out he was seeing other people behind my back. Ya know, second basing with other girls. Maybe that's what's up...

Okay, I know that I may have portrayed a gloomy picture but really it could be worse. We are getting along well for the most part. He's actually hella humorous. Perhaps even a little more sarcastic than me. Who woulda guessed... I'm enjoying getting to know him without the pressure. It's just not as black and white as I'm accustomed to. But it's also not entirely whack. It's um- friendship with perks?