Hope Dies Last

In a moment of blogger camaraderie, I attempted to write my own doodle for Peter’s annual Doodlepalooza.

Check it out here.

I think it may just make you laugh.

A couple of months ago, I was hopping across the internet when I landed on a website. This website, which I can no longer find, had the body measurements of most celebrities. According to this ever trusting source, Jennifer Aniston and I share the exact same weight, height and breast size.

Only difference is that my body looks nothing like hers.

For one, I look terrible in shorts. For two, my legs are nowhere killer status. I have great hair though.

But, as always, this got me thinking of potential. I could–if I tried–have one of the most sought after bodies on the planet. I imagine that Jennifer has been on a regimented diet and workout schedule for over a decade. I hear the words regimented, diet and workout schedule and I begin to wheeze and pant as if I have already run a marathon. The point is that if I wanted to, I could have her body. This is not some absurd, lofty dream. Its an actual possibility. Same height, weight and breast size? Check. Same curves? Check.  Similar Greek genes? Check.

It could happen.

Going after an A-list body is not my goal though.  But, the idea that with consistently hard work what appears to be unreachable can be achieved is hard to un-realize. For as long as I can remember, I have wanted to be a published story teller.  And for as long as I can remember that seemed impossible; an absurd naive dream of a girl. See,  life gets in the way. You learn that its not easy; that there are millions of writers. You don’t stand out. Then, life actually gets in the way.  Bills need to be paid. Success is measured by the amount of money you can flaunt; the amount of names you can drop; the number of zeros at the end of a paycheck. So, even though you’re a writer, you write other people’s ideas. The ones that pay.

It’s depressing.

So, when it occurred to me that–with some effort–I could actually have Jennifer Aniston’s body; then it occurred to me that I could–with some effort–actually be a published novelist.

And that?

That’s fucking exciting.

What do you think you could do or be if you put in the effort that is required?

When I was younger, disappointment in love would undoubtedly be followed by some type of physical makeover.

I would cut my hair or change its colour. Piercings or tattoos would be considered.  New clothes would be bought. Gym memberships would be signed. It was a good strategy. Changing the outside, in whatever way, can be good to heal the inside.

This last doomed romance, while beautiful and then painful did not last long enough to make a very deep cut. A makeover, I rationalized, the morning after was not going to achieve anything. Besides, I am perfectly happy with the way I look. After no contemplation at all,  I knew  that this time, this disappointment had to followed by something that was going to make me happy. 

And, well, writing makes me happy. 

Writing stuff that people read? Even happier. 

Through a new friend I discovered Running In Heels.; a Pan-European cultural online magazine for women. I quickly sent off an email to the editor-in-chief admitting that I do not wear heels because oh haven’t you heard? Flats are the new stilettos. But regardless of that, I’d still love to contribute.

Fast forward, 35 days later and here we are. 

My first two articles are up. I even have my very, own ‘author‘ page. Yip! There is writing out there in the world for people to read with my ACTUAL name on it. 

Cool, right?

If you’re so inclined, you can click on the links below to read my first articles. 

Picking Up Speed: Silversun Pickups

Ten Books About Love That We Love 

Dear Readers,

In the next couple of months I will be making some big changes to Hope Dies Last. I feel that it is time for my blog to evolve from an anonymous online journal to my own personal/professional website–real identity and all. I say professional because whether I am published novelist or not, I am a writer. Yesterday’s manicure was payed by money that I earned through writing. Ditto the H&M cardigan I am wearing right now. Ditto the food in my cupboards and the gladiator sandals on my feet. I write therefore I am, you know?

It no longer makes any sense to me to split up my identity.  The writing that I have done on this blog is something that I am proud of; I have even  used some of this writing to get payed writing gigs. It is time for Hope to come out of the closet and join me in my real world.

Of course, this is complicated. I have exposed myself on this blog honestly and authentically. I have written about my emotional world as if no one was reading. And its been rewarding to say the least.  To be able to share my experiences with perfect strangers and for those strangers to then share their own stories, their own thoughts has enriched my life in no uncertain terms. But, I no longer feel comfortable continuing down this path of navel-grazing obsession.

Yesterday, I took the first steps that I need to take to achieve the evolution of this blog. Half of my posts have now been set to private. But you can still find them all in Google Reader.  (Google invading our privacy one badly designed application at a time). In the next couple of months, I will make more changes. I will probably move the contents of this blog to my own name domain. This website will be a one stop shop for all the various writing projects I am involved in. I will use my real name. I haven’t ironed out all the details yet, but Hope Dies Last is a name that I am attached to. I can’t let it go. So, one way or another, it will be included in this new website.

The blog itself will remain intact. I will continue to write daily. The content will be slightly different; but my voice will stay the same.

I hope that you will all continue to follow me.

Because come on, as a self-professed voyeur myself, I am certain that you will want to know when this perpetually single girl falls in love and is loved in return.

Despite these changes, one promise I can make is that when that day comes?

I will–most definitely–be writing about it.

x

Hope

I am in dire need of a break from thinking about my most recent romantic entanglement.

Enter Peter.

Peter, who I ‘adore’, (and who has also written a novel that you should have already read, but if you haven’t, you MUST) is holding a drabble competition over at his blog. A drabble, as I have learned, is a fictional story told in exactly 100 words. This is my entry. You should enter too.

Enjoy my attempts at literary greatness!

***

I fell in love with her fourth sentence.

The second sentence I uttered was, “Awkward. What would happen if you caught me?” (I had just unintentionally admitted to her–the host–that I wanted to covertly steal her jukebox.). “Uh, I think I just did.”

I looked at my ring finger and back up at her. “Nope.” She laughed, “Slow down, mister.”

I pressed on. “What would happen if you caught me?” She gave it some thought.

“I don’t know”. Third sentence.

My gaze dropped. A conversation killer. I looked back up. Her eyes flashed with certainty.

“Isn’t that exciting?”

Almost two years ago, I ran into N and her sister on a street. N, her sister and I all went to high school together. That night we had a couple of drinks and when we parted we promised to keep in touch. To hang out more often. I never followed through. They didn’t either.

Last autumn I deleted almost 50 ‘friends’ on Facebook. My reasoning at the time was “If I haven’t communicated with you in the last year, then we’re obviously not friends.” One of those people happened to be N. My hand hovered over the delete button for a second and with no second thought deleted her.

A couple of weeks ago, I agreed to work part-time at my old job as a shop girl for the summer. This Saturday a man walked through the doors looking for a wedding present and found me. He smiled and when he did I was smitten. In a moment. By that smile. For the next 30 minutes we chatted like two old friends. We found that we both graduated from the same high school; years apart. We discovered that the present he was buying was for N’s sister. We discovered other mutual friends. When he left he took his smile with him. And when he did I felt a sharpness in my chest. Is it even possible to miss a smile?

The next day, lying next to a hotel pool thumbing through a magazine my ears caught the sound of a familiar accent. South Africans. I pretended to read but I casually began to eavesdrop on their conversation. A son and daughter dissected the happenings of a wedding for their mother. I heard N’s name and I heard her sister’s name and my heart beat a little bit faster. There I was and there they were. These people that were in the same room as that smile last night.

For a moment, I was jealous.

My mind raced backwards connecting hypothetical dots. What if I had made an effort to get together with N and her sister two years earlier? What if I had been invited to her wedding? What if the same man had walked through the shop door and what if instead of wishing him a pleasant evening I could have said, “See you there!” What if I had gone to that wedding?

Would I still be lying next to this pool, reading a magazine, eavesdropping on a conversation, wishing that that man with that smile would find me and knock me out all over again?

Easy: Finding evidence that always confirms that there is something wrong with me

Hard: Taking that evidence and interpreting it differently to conclude that I am just normal

Easy: To think  ”I don’t blog for the comments, I blog for myself”

Hard: Accepting that comments aren’t the alpha and omega of my existence

Easy: Letting my life pass me by 

Hard: Grabbing it by the (as my mother says) balls and living it

Easy:   Writing

Hard: Writing well

Easy:  Talking to my friends

Hard: Talking to my friends about feeling left behind as they get engaged, live with their boyfriends and make plans for their combined futures

Easy: First dates

Hard: Finding someone who I would actually want to have a first date with

Easy: Coming up with the idea for this post

Hard: Coming up with the actual content for this post

Easy: To say “I forgive you”

Hard: To mean it

Easy: To have good intentions

Hard: To put them in practice

Easy: To love

Hard: To be loved in return

What are you finding easy/hard?

Dear Readers, 

Imagine, for a moment, that you hired me as a freelance writer to complete a project for you. 

Imagine that you had approached me in August 2008 in fact. Now imagine that I told you that due to time constraints I would probably begin working on that project by November but I might also be able to start in a couple of weeks. Imagine that you pay me $222.50  as a retainer. 

Imagine that the weeks come and go and you find yourself in January 2009 without a single word from me. Imagine you write a strongly worded letter requesting for a refund because “Hello? Dude, its January!”

Imagine that I convince you to stick with me and imagine that I promise to finish your project immediately?

Great, right?

Now imagine that you don’t hear from me for another EIGHT WEEKS? Imagine that I do not reply to any of your emails.

What would you do? Would you name and shame me on your blog? Or  would you give up? Would you say goodbye to that initial deposit of $222.50  and find another writer to do your project for you? 

At my wit’s end, 

Hope

A new year cannot really feel like a new year until the previous year has been dissected, right? So in a nutshell, this was my year. 

1. What did you do in 2008 that you’d never done before?

A guy on the second date. 

2. Did you keep your new year’s resolutions, and will you make more for next year?

I do not recall making any resolutions last year. This year I’ve decided to make a list of small goals I want to achieve each month. 

3. Did anyone close to you give birth?

Nope. But, my sister is pregnant again! 

4. Did anyone close to you die?

No but people I am close to lost people they were close to. 

5. What countries did you visit?

Zero. This makes me sad.

6. What would you like to have in 2009 that you lacked in 2008?

A social life.

7. What dates from 2008 will remain etched upon your memory and why?

January 20st. You can read all about it here.

8. What was your biggest achievement of the year?

Quiting my job and cigarettes.

9. What was your biggest failure?

Starting the cigarettes again. 

10. Did you suffer illness or injury?

Yes. I refer you to this post and this post. 

11. What was the best thing you bought?

The Complete West Wing Box Set.  

12. Whose behaviour merited celebration?

My nephew’s. Each time he entered a room he was applauded. Each time he made a new sentence-ish six ‘bravo’s’ exploded around him. Just yesterday he used the superlative ‘bigger’ and this merited a scream, a hug and an Eskimo kiss from me. 

13. Whose behaviour made you appalled and depressed?

All the citizens of Greece that threw rocks at buildings and burned public and private property.  

14. Where did most of your money go?

To doctors. For both physical and mental ailments. 

15. What did you get really, really, really excited about?

Most of the things I got really, really, really excited about this year were potentials, hypotheticals if you will. Take for example: Barack Obama and the entire US election. I was far more excited about what could happen if he was elected than the moment it became official. Or like how the ‘relationship’ I had with The Man in my head was ten times better than the actual experience. Or how Real made my heart a-flutter when he wasn’t there.  

Perhaps, my expectations are too high? 

16. What song will always remind of you 2008?

My Mistakes Were Made For You| The Last Shadow Puppets

17. Compared to this time last year, are:

a)happier or sadder?

b)thinner or fatter?

c) richer or poorer?

Sadder, thinner and poorer. 

18. What do you wish you’d done more of?

More acting. 

19. What do you wish you’d done less of?

Less thinking.

20. Did you fall in love in 2008?

No, no I didn’t. [So we're now entering Year Six of Hope's Hopeless Love Life for anyone left counting.] 

21. What was your favourite TV program?

New Show: Life on Mars

Old Show: Grey’s Anatomy. 

22. Do you hate anyone now that you didn’t hate this time last year?

Hate is such a strong word. But the writer’s of Grey’s Anatomy really pissed me off this year regarding the whole Return of Denny Fiasco. 

23. What was the best book you read?

Don’t Move | Margaret Mazzantini

24. What was your greatest musical discovery?

The Kings of Leon

25. What did you want and get?

I wanted a pet and I got one in the form of crazylovely Diego. 

26. What did you want and not get?

*Cough*Boyfriend*Cough*

27. What was your favourite film of this year?

There was no film that really resonated with me this year. The Dark Knight left me wanting, Sex and the City made me want to gorge my ears out with all the adolescent shrieks and Burn After Reading was just OK. (Although, I desperately loved George Clooney in it.)

28. What did you do on your birthday, and how old were you?

I drank some beer, laughed, blew out candles and wore shoes that hurt. I turned 27. 

29. How you would describe your personal fashion concept in 2008?

The older I get the closer I get to dressing the way I wanted to in high school. In fashion terms that would probably mean I’m only 20 kilos and 40 absurd outfits away from resembling Mary Kate and Ashley Olsen. 

30. What kept you sane?

My mother, my sister, my brother-in-law and my brother. 

31. Which celebrity/public figure did you fancy the most?

Jon Stewart. 

32. Who did you miss?

The Best Friend, my Sister From Another Mother and The Man. 

33. Who was the best new person you met?

Hit myself over the head, spit on my neck, step in a piece of poo because the truth is? Real. Fuckity fuck fuck. 

34. Tell us a valuable life lesson you learned in 2008. 

Make sure to remove all racy undergarments from car before having it washed. 

35. Quote a song lyric that sums up your year. 

To the Universe: ”You ask me to enter, but then you make me crawl.” U2 | One

This is it. 

I have my fingers crossed.

I am pumping myself up to stay awake right into the wee hours of the morning to get the latest state by state polls. It helps that I have a deadline and will be working well into the night.

Here’s to wishing and praying and hoping that this does not need to happen again. 

Back to regular navel grazing, woe is me posting tomorrow.

P.S Can anyone recommend any good webistes or You Tube channels that I can watch to get the latest news as live as possible today?

I’m training a girl who will be taking my position come August 1st and for the most part she is quite lovely.

The part that isn’t quite lovely is the part where she manages daily to twist the conversation to the fact that I am four years older than her and without a man. While she is in a long term relationship and planning to get married next summer.

I may be without MAN but gagging for marriage I am not. So, her attempts at making me feel bad have not been very successful.Her attempts at pissing me off, however, have succeeded beyond her wildest ambitions. I have wanted to grab her by the shoulders and shake her until the belief that a relationship is the only real defining aspect of a woman plops out of her head. I have wanted to then stomp on it with my freshly pedicured single feet.

Instead, I smile and let her search the internet for cheap tickets to great honeymoon destinations. My smile only wavers when I look over her shoulder and say, “Oooo, I’d love to go to the Seychelles” and she retorts “I think you’ll have to get a boyfriend before you start dreaming about going on a honeymoon.” And she laughs. And I laugh. All the while, wanting my elbow to meet her face.

Then, the other day she came back from an errand telling me that the old guy at the bank had hit on her.  The line he used was priceless and I giggled and asked her if she would tell her boyfriend.

“Off course not.” she said.

“Oh? Why ever not?” I replied cooly.

“He’s the jealous type. If he knew that some guy at the bank is hitting on me? He wouldn’t let me leave the house ever!”

“But, but…its so funny.” I ventured.

“He won’t see it that way. I tend not to tell him things that will make my life more difficult.”

With that one statement any feelings of envy I may have had that she is on the verge of ever after and I am not, flew out the window.Because isn’t it much better to be single and fabulous than in some controlling relationship with a man who appears to be incredibly insecure?

I thought so too. And today as I had a ten minute window before a meeting I decided to run into Zara and buy a pair of fabulous shoes to go with my revived BEING SINGLE ROCKS attitude.

I walked the couple of block easily, with a fresh swing in my step and a swagger in my hips. I think the thought, “I am awesome” must have passed my mind a couple of times.

As I reached the entrance I noticed a glorious maxi dress at the far end of the store that would be perfect for a single girl. Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed another woman approaching the dress and so I did what anyone of you would do in that situation.

I began to run.

And suddenly I was not running anymore. Suddenly I was spreadeagled flat on my face, the contents of my bag sprawled across the floor with me and ten pairs of eyes staring at the mess in front of them.

Suffice it to say, arrogance does not suit me.  And the universe will go out of her way to throw me in my place each and every time I even try to go in that direction.

*Thanks to Itelli for asking me to play along and to Autograph Collectors for initiating the idea in the first place.

Oh! And I’d love to see your own hand-written blog posts.