[ 2:46am - Cat Castle (Red and Arrthymia’s residence) ]

Last night I had a strange dream.

It's very rare to find anything in the news that's amusing these days.

Sheesh. This is hard. Chosing one winner from four amazing challenge entries.

Over the years I have read some pretty amazing blogs. Poetry, fiction, musings, political satire and ‘a-day-in-the-life’ stuff which is my particular favourite. Then there is what I like to call 'brave blogging , which has always gripped my attention.

Aaron Motsoaledi should be shot through both testicles for utter stupidity.

Ever since I read those fabulous Stieg Larrson books I have been toying with the idea of getting a tattoo. The lead character is his books, Lisbeth Salander, has several tattoos and they have always seemed mysterious and deliciously sexy.

Dear Future Self

As you know I have a tendency to ramble on, so I am going to try to just get right down to it.

Ok folks. It time to stretch those blog muscles again.

I have always liked the idea of a time capsule of sorts. A letter to yourself and other mementos buried in a tin box, in your garden or favourite spot. Something you could unearth 15 years or 20 years for now (assuming you remember where you buried it).

Looking back from your future self, what would you like to see?

I have a single white hair growing out of my chin. Not grey. White. Spierwit!

My first blog. Ever. Blogged on Mail and Guardian's Blogmark many moons ago.
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So Red and I have a "Biggest Loser Challenge" running at home. After our splurge with Clare over the holidays and moving house, we have been living on take-out for weeks and have the waistlines to prove it.

I have a well established dislike of smokers. Especially inconsiderate smokers.

Some days I just don’t get the point of life and living? A client of ours passed away yesterday. That’s three less projects we have to work on. The recession has crippled many architectural practices and many in our field are out of work or hanging on by our shoelaces. This stress aside, I become very introspective and melancholy whenever someone I know dies.

So Red and I have had to adjust to living together in one space. More especially we have had to adjust to how each of us does things and our individual quirks.

So I was told to blog something rather than whinge about the lack of blogs, so here goes.

I moved house a month ago today. Moved “up” so to speak. Out of a noisy, bustling, grimey hippy “village” on the edge of Cape Town CBD to a plush security complex with all the trimmings in suburbia.

Today I’ve got the chorus from that Sunny and Cher song, “I’ve got you babe!” playing in my head.

I can’t remember the last time my stress levels have been this high. There was the three times earlier in the year when I thought I might die, but somehow it pales in comparison to the last two months. Maybe I just can’t remember. I dunno. All I know is the exhaustion is killing me.

On Monday I read and article about the death of well know photographer. An apparent suicide at his home.

Reward offered if found.