N.O.W

The world as it is now...

The quitting smoking thing has seemed to come to a grinding, actually screeching, halt. I am back to my usual amount of deathsticks. Maybe Monday I will start again, or the next Monday. Things just have been overly stressful and I find the crave, on top of everything else that is going on in my life, is too much to handle. I'll quit when I live on an island, with a animal skin fanny-cover (wow, now that's a sight, and not a good one). I can't cope without my 'stress relievers.'

The house is in its finishing stages. I got some guy - "Rambo", as he's named, to come and hang up the door. He did a great job! Very 'well-hung'. We just have a few bits and bobs to do now. My folks picked up the large dining room table on the weekend, so the flat is getting more bare as the days go by. We are still living and sleeping in the lounge. We have some oki coming round tomorrow night to view the place, cross fingers.

I'm still overloaded at work but managed to get a lot done. I have to train my psychotic brain that I can only do what I can in a certain amount of hours. Leave work at work and don't bring it home where I unload it onto Chris. (Shame my poor babe, I need to make you my no.1 priority, instead of bitching about work, money or other problems.) Things will come right, they always do.

I have a massive job on for my business, for a big client, this weekend. I'm fuck'en anxious about it. I have to hire like 7 other people to come with me. Getting everything ready in a short amount time is hectically stressful. I hope that everything will come together though.

I'm scared I'm pregnant.

Even saying those words freaks me out. I don't know why I am so para. I've done nothing different this month. But it's on my mind constantly. I hope not. I pray not. Only a few days to go until my red friend comes, and boy will I welcome her with open arms.

I seem to be in a busy place in my mind at the moment. (As always)

Everything is up in the air. Maybe it's because I am in a transition phase.

So many worries, such a small brain.

Money is also on the issue-plate. At the moment I am stone broke. I am waiting 'patiently' for the money to come. Money is always an issue though.

I'm trying to be positive and say positive affirmations. I'm beginning to get into a negative-mind space, although 'secretly' optimistic. I know that sounds weird, but even when I'm very negative and I still see the end of the tunnel.

"I have abundance"
"I am positive"
"I attract good things into my life"
"Things will come right"
"I will do a good job - both in my business and in my work"

I found myself saying these things in my car on the way to work. It's actually quiet comforting when you think positive.

I look forward to going home tonight, to have gnocchi and this awesome sauce from woolies - chicken pecorino. Look forward to snuggling with my hubi, in the sanctuary I call home, and escape from this business I call my life.

"Honey, I'm home"

Never send a women to do a man's job

For me, the saying 'Never send a women to do a man's job' holds true. But the same can be said about 'never send a man to do a woman's job.'

I have been running around like a blue ass fly, trying to get things to fix up the flat. During my lunch break I got paint and glue sticks. I still need to fix the bathroom and the hand rails, they are looking shabby. With money being tight, I need to get a mass of shit, on a limited budget. After driving from shop to shop, I finally found these damn glue sticks. I then phoned Chris to tell him...

Stacey: Babe, I got the glue sticks for the bathroom

Babe: What do they look like?

Stacey: The ones that you heat up, finger width, long. You have the gun remember...

Babe: No, we need the silicon ones. We have the gun for that.

Stacey: No, you said glue sticks

Babe: No, i didn't

Stacey: When you say gun - are you talking about that metal thingy?

Babe: Yes

Stacey: But I thought you meant that plastic gun, you use for the glue. That metal thingy is not a gun.

Babe: No, you put the stick in there

Stacey: But, Silicon is a TUBE. A tube. It's got that pointy thing on it. Oh shit, now I've just wasted money. This is why you should've gone and bought it.

Babe: Don't blame me for this.

This is why you do NOT get a women to do a man's job. This is precisely why you shouldn't get a women to get stuff from the hardware store. Give me cooking or baking and I'll cook you under the table. Give me a hammer, nail, or cement and I'll end up gluing my head to a tree.

Do I look the Bob the fuck'en Builder to you?

Uninspired Transition

I woke up this morning with two words popping into my head immediately: 'Uninspired' and 'Unmotivated'. I lay on the couch, for 10 minutes thinking about these concepts and how my life seemed to be in a rut. This rut, in a sense, causing me to feel both.

It started last night - the overwhelming-ness of it all. The agent is coming around on Thursday to take pictures, so I'm trying to get everything sorted before then. But, the thing is - the more I look at the things that need to be done, the more I notice more things that need a fix up. I'm getting anxious about whether or not everything will be done in time, and if the place will actually sell.

Where's my anxiety pills?

I think what is happening in my life currently, is the fact that I'm getting overwhelmed in every aspect of my life. I'm almost snowed-under, on the verge of sinking. It's like I'm in water and the only thing sticking out is my nostrils. Scary. I just want to lie in bed, cover my head and run away from it all. but I can't.

Change is good but during the transition, you don't know if you are coming or going. It's like everything is up in the air. Work, moving houses, face painting jobs and money are all becoming a bit to much to handle. I need to adopt the following thinking: I am only one person. Take everything one small step at a time.

This flu also doesn't seem to be buggering off either.

This too shall pass.

I'm also craving cigarettes. It's making me edgy. (I even had a fight with chris about Almond ice cream - I mean for fuck sakes.)

This too shall pass.

As, like most humans who cannot not be tempted by sin, I have not gone Cold Turkey. I am realistic. I had 4 1/2 / 5 cigs yesterday - for the wholllleeeeeeeeee day and night ...... the whole 24 hours. This is damn good for me. Today I only brought 3 cigs to work. Every day - I'm hoping will get a bit easier - but I am still trying to quit.

This too shall pass.

Although, funnily enough - the day today seems to be getting better as it goes on. I can see the light at the end of the tunnel.

I'll get there. It'll all work out.

If not, where's the cigs?

I'm quitting smoking!

Looking at this picture: Is any one hungry? Anyone care for a piece of fillet?

They should have this picture on the back of a cigarette box.

I, Stacey Rowan, am kicking this dirty habit in the butt - I Q.U.I.T smoking. This blog serves as a 'invisible' contract that I will no longer smoke death sticks anymore. Yes, health is an issue - but when you are young we think we are untouchable, that we will not end up tied to an air machine, clutching at the few straws of life. Wrong. Not only do these death sticks deplete your health but they deplete your money too.

If I estimate, I buy one box a day (yes, I share with my boyfriend but still.) One box is about R30.00. There are 7 days in a week, so that's R210. Times that buy 4 weeks and you get R840 per month. That's R840 I could spend on food, or getting my nails done or my hair cut. Shit, and there I always am wondering why I'm so stone broke.

This quitting is a challenge to see how much money I can save. Basically I will no longer smoke because I can no longer afford it. This dirty habit is burning a hole in my pocket... and a hole in my lungs.

I've been a loyal and dedicated smoker for about 10 years. Enough is enough.

I'm waiting for the cravings to surface, for the moods to explode, for the dragon to rear its ugly head. Lord help me. Yes, this will be a huge test, but it needs to be done. Only 21 days needed to break a habit - I'll need about a year. But, I am not going cold turkey. I need to be realistic. I have a safety cig box at home, just in case I need one. If the urge gets too much. I have reduced my limit, for now, to 2 cigs a day. That's good enough. Then hopefully, I will no longer need this crutch. I will be SS (like Alcoholic Anonymous) but Stopped Smoker.

I have implemented a few rules: No smoking in my car and No smoking in the house, only outside.

My boyfriend is also quitting. This also serves me well as I can't smoke if he doesn't - I don't want to have to kiss him with an ashtray mouth. He needs to support me, he needs to keep me focused.

I'm glad I have this blog. I will document my 21 days on here.

I actually look forward to having money at the end of the money, waking about feeling vitality, having a fresh breath, no longer stinking like a chimney and just been able to run up a staircase with my throat not burning.

yup, this is a good thing. My parents will be pleased....

Kent Silver, you have been my friend for some time now, but I can no longer hold your hand whilst you gently suffocate me. I will no longer be able to buy you, or say hello at the petrol station. I will no longer be able to caress you within my lips, breathing in your deathly aromas. I will also have to say goodbye to your family members to - the ashtray, the lighter, the matches. You guys will easily be able to go and find some other one to possess, but I can no longer be your friend.

The journey starts now - wish me luck!

Flu: It finally found me

Crap. It's finally found me. I feel like dog balls.

When I get flu, I get it bad... and I get it quickly. In one day, like today, my nose is red, I'm tired as hell, I have phlegm, my muscles ache, I am weak - I have flu. Full blown flu. I'm surrounded by millions of white tissues, it's a germ barrier to 'subconsciously' tell everyone to fuck off.... "don't be invading my space. Stay away." I'm a vessel for a viral infection. "If you irritate me, I'll cough in your face!"

I can't even type properly. With my brain not functioning properly, I can barely spell. hsdgfidhgfhifhdihfdfdfhbdfkn mvfkmfpogiiuieiurytr86reru90reojdiodjier39i09ri49uruhrhg kjfuigfdiufgdyfgydfgdfyugdhfbkewru984ry498y084u89u]t498t. You have no idea how many times have had to edit this bloody post in order for it to make some sense.

I need bed. And bad.

I'm the man in the picture. I feel so sick that yes, I've transformed into him.

I've been taking vitamins and vitamin shots constantly, but still - the flu still manages to find me.

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Tonight - it's tomato soup and early bed. I was going to work but no ways! No cleaning, no painting, no working - just beddy-byes.

OK, so I've pumped my body with ClorenzaC and vitamin drinks - lets hope for the best.

I'm entering Survivor!

When most people enter Survivor - they're fit, a nature-enthusiast and they have the appropriate qualities that make them the perfect survivor candidate. When considering the perfect candidate, I'm probably on the bottom of the list - rock bottom.

But it's these imperfect qualities that make me the perfect survivor! You see, survivor is actually not about how a boer can maak a vuur, or how someone can catch 10 fishes in one go, or how one wins all the challenges - it's about the cranky ones that sit in the corner, complain and become the hated ones in the group. Now, my intention is not to be the hated one - but I'll most certainly be the loud-mouthed, extroverted, lazy, fun-filled one, that gets on everyone's tits.

Yup - I'll make for great tv!

Minus nivea cream, cigarettes, food = Cranky bitch.

Remember now that not only do I have OCD when it comes to dry hands, but if I am hungry or craving a smoke - I get ratty. If I have to do any other exercise, besides walking to the fridge and back, I complain and start pretending that I am having an asma attack. (I did that in primary school when we we having a school competition against another school, and I was coming last) So why the hell would I want to put myself in this situation then? Put simply - I want to test myself. I want to see how far I can push myself.

Not only will there be no cigs, or nivea, or food, or my family/boyfriend for that matter - but I'll be faced with another problem!

I hate salad - or should I say rabbit food. Anthing that tastes of nothing, or that is healthy, makes me yak. Although I am a great lover of vegetables, I hate fruit. The only fruit I can manage is apples, banana's, and oranges - but it's not like there is a multitude of these fruits on the island. You're basically stuck with coconuts, weird-ass berries, and some other fruits I have never heard of. So, yes I am pretty much screwed in this area. I'm also not a great lover of fish - although Salmon is yummy. "Yes, I'll have one salmon with hollandaise sauce please, with a chocolate milkshake." That should be easy enough to order on an island that is miles away from anything, isn't it?

I also hate the sun. I am not one of the chickies who sit in the sun for hours, burning themselves. I'll lie in the sun for 5 minutes and start to feel claustrophobic. And on the odd occasion that I fall a sleep in the sun, I wake up in pain with the site of my fucken red legs. Then I peel. I don't tan - I fucken burn. But you know what, I also never ever ever ever ever get into a costume. I hate when fat people walk around in bikinis, with their fat rolls hanging everywhere. Now, I am not huge but I know that I can't wear a bikini. So I'll be the one in the corner, wearing a snow man's outfit (covered head to toe), sweating in the scorching sun.

Then there's bugs. Yuck! I have the paranoia of bugs flying in my ears or vagina, laying eggs. Best be sleeping in the trees then hey. Oh, but that reminds me that there are no beds there. Shit, I thought I would be staying a luxury hotel on survivor - damn. Then there's the issue of razor blades. My bodily hair grows like weeds. So I''ll be the 'red' one complaining about my hunger pains, cigs cravings, whilst waving my arms around, revealing my hairy armpits and exposing my pubic hair that has made its way out of my panties. Wow, that sounds damn attractive.

OK - so this all looks very promising... Yup, I am going to win this. I may not be great at the man-work nature stuff, but hey - I'll make for fab TV.

I'll apply in September.

PS: Those are pictures of me. Don't I look so survivor-like. If only I had a gun on survivor to kill the fish, instead of standing for hours trying to catch them with a spear. But actually, I won't be doing that, the men will. And I'll just lie back, sipping on dirty water (cocktail 'ala-poo), watching them slave away.

Yes, this will definately be interesting!

Can you see I'm in pain?

So I went to the dentist today. My worst nightmare.

I first had the 'pleasure' of going to the oral hygienist and then to the dentist.

I experienced an oral hygienist about a year ago. The lady was terrible. When upon booking the appointment this time round, I made damn sure I didn't book with the same lady. But sure enough and just my luck, I was shown to the same women. Oh shit I thought.

Now, anyone in the 'helping' industry like doctors, gyny's and dentists, should not only have the skill to do a good job, but they should have tact and human interaction capabilities. Even if it is just a level up from apes.

This women, and I shit you not, had no tact. Not only did she handle my head like a soccer ball but she shoved my head left and right with such force. Yes, I understand that plague does require some force in order to remove it, but come on, I could feel my teeth cracking.

Now, I have very sensitive teeth. Chocolate makes them pain, I can't brush my teeth with cold water and any tapping or scrapping makes them ache. But this was ignored by this 'lady'. I lay in the chair, in such agony, with my limbs moving at the touch of every nerve. Could she not see I was in pain? No.

Then my mouth was engulfed with a bucket of water and I couched it up, half choking, when she touched a nerve. Then I had the spraying water thingy-my-bob spraying water all over my face. This was a cleaning teeth appointment, not a fucking facial. I had water dripping down my neck at rapid speeds. This was truly awful.

She then touched on a very delicate nerve, which in turn made me ball into tears. The whole experience was just whelming up in my eyes. She then brushed it off, with no tact or comfort. There were no emotions.

She was not nice to me, nor did she display any comforting emotions, nor did she care. People in this profession need to interact with their patients in a comforting way. When you see your patient in pain, fuck'en do something about it. And especially, with a patient like me who is paranoid, stressed out and anxious at the thought of going to the dentist.

Needless to say, after my encounter with the devil dentist - I am all fixed up and no longer have the dreaded 'hole in one' looming.

Thank fuck that's over!