Tag Archives: blogging

I’m back!

25 May

Before I write my next “real” blog, just a quick note to excuse my lengthy absence. To use the oldest one in the book – life’s just been “busy”.

Good-busy, to be fair.

First off, I got engaged! So, like a typical bride-to-be, I’ve been perving over dresses and venues in my spare time.

Our engagement!

Our engagement!

Also – happy dance! – I landed a job writing for an online women’s magazine. Which is crazy-amazing, and something that would not have happened without this blog and its readers. So thank you for visiting my page and thank you for giving me the confidence to apply for the job. Thank you, thank you, thank you.

I feel like a real writer!

I feel like a real writer!

I spent some time in Europe as well, but wrote about it for the magazine. I couldn’t really make up any words or swear a bit like I usually do, but I like the pieces nonetheless. It’s quite an adjustment writing for someone else. Never before have phrases like “fun for the whole family!” been edited into my pieces, but I’m not complaining. The magazine has given me a platform to participate in something bigger than myself, and I feel incredibly blessed to have been given an opportunity like this.

If you’d like to indulge me and read some magazine pieces, my portfolio is at http://all4women.co.za/author/CaroE/.

I quite like my London piece – feel like that’s the first one in which I succeeded writing “like me”.

Lastly – and not too excitingly – work’s been pretty demanding. But that’s no excuse not to write, as all we bloggers know.

Promise to be back again soon :).

Random bits of not-real writing

15 Aug

Angry me = bad writer me

 

I haven’t written in too long a time. Actually, that’s a lie – I have started and abandoned two pieces. They were toxic. The unhealthy, teen-angsty sort of writing that never should see the light of day, and certainly weren’t the kind of thing I’d like to put my name to in public.

I guess I have to admit that I’ve been a bitter old hag the last while. In fact, I was so depro about life that even found myself gorging on ginger biscuits – in Caro world, something only marginally less revolting than Pistachio – and spending whole days trapped in front of my laptop in sweat pants and an oily ponytail. That, dear friends, is the downside of having a home-run small business – some days, it consumes you to the point where you realise that it’s 3pm and you haven’t yet brushed your teeth.

But back to why I lost my sparkle for a while. Predictably, my issues were family-related. Now, other than the fact that those pieces that I started with genuinely sucked, I didn’t actually feel comfortable posting the kind of vitriol they contained. The problem with family is that you see them from time to time, so writing about them opens the door for a whole lot of awkward.

That said, I might as well disclose what angered me so:

  1. Dear old Uncle S – a person I see less than I see cows with a manicures – allowed his duck-footed Jack Russell to roam into our garden and brutally kill one of our cats. Poor old Kietsie was a real lady – almost 20 years old and probably the oldest friend I had. He didn’t even bother to apologise (but might one day in the not-too-distant future be forced to do so under threat of me not disclosing which shelter I dropped the beast off at).

What I wrote that day can only be described as a combination of a soppy obituary and death threat.  Not kosher.

  1. The second piece was about the unfairness of cousin X getting a fat donation to start a beauty business. Not 200 bucks to buy a tube of nail glue and some two-tone traffic light pamphlets – enough for designers and shop fitters and champagne shooters and Sandton.

You can imagine – woe is me! Life is unfair! Why, oh why, do I get nothing  when I’m the one with an actual small business? Sob, sob… Crybaby, crybaby… Snot, snot. Basically, moaning at length about how some of us have to work hard to get something, while others just get given a trust fund.

Anyway, I’m back from Bitterness and back to writing.

Bizarrely, I feel that I have too much and too little to write about simultaneously – fellow bloggers will know the feeling. After an absence from writing, so many half-formed ideas float around without sense attached.

So herewith some random bits of not-real writing:

There was a request to blog about car guards – all I can say is, good on them for perfecting the art of guilt-tripping people into paying for absolutely nothing. Also that the person who founded Interpark is a scoundrel-genius.

There was an idea to write about how budget jeweler American Swiss has now managed to make its once iconic billboards less entertaining than those for a community AIDS project (and, dare I say it, Spur).

 Just to give you a taste of the old American Swiss:

 

                       

 Actually, they’re not as earth-shattering as I remember. But they damn well got noticed between the clutter of shit like Jacob Zuma and Co grimacing in miner’s hats to promote NUM or local government or who knows what.

 Now they’re just boring.

Much as I hate Spur – how do they fool people into paying so much for such mediocre food? – their latest ads are good, but not on Google. So on to those safe sex slogan signs I saw in Bronkhorstspruit. Punny, rhymey, and complete with two smiling, dancing condoms dispensing advice, I found them awkwardly amusing but rather pointless. I can’t help but think that graphic depictions of rotting penises might work as a better deterrent from promiscuity in communities where illiteracy is high, but maybe I’m underestimating the power of humour.

In case anyone reading this is dumb enough to be having casual sex, a few words of caution from the Ndlovu Care Group:

 

“Take Prick-cautions!”

 “If you love her, use a cover!”

 And my personal favourite:

 “Be a man, not a fool

Put a condom on your tool”

 Oh, and here’s what the sign outside of their Couple’s Counseling Centre says:

 “The best couples COME TOGETHER!”

 Thing is, you only see the centre after being horribly confused by the shift in focus – who cares about orgasms when you’re trying to get a message about AIDS across? – and then realise what’s going on.

 Anyhoo – enough of this rambling post.

 I promise to write something cohesive again soon ;).

 To Chantel Thompson, thank you for reminding me to write. This post – and the next (proper!) one – goes out to you.