This weekend I discovered that Selena Gomez and Vanessa Hudgens are not the same person.  Also, I gardened the ass off of Saturday, apartment gardening having been replaced by courtyard gardening, next stop actual farming.

Also, I thought (and felt) a lot about loneliness.  And how to talk about it, write about it, swim through it.  More on that when thoughts have become sentences.

Also, I went to an ameezing Sunday afternoon Joburg rooftop party for a good cause.

Sometimes Joburg is a bad, bad boyfriend.  He forgets about you, is a bully or just plain ol’ doesn’t seem to care.  But then, out of nowhere he arrives with a bunch of ranunculus in the form of a glorious, windy, clear afternoon of good music and great company and suddenly, all is forgiven.  I heart you Joburg.

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This one goes out to Adi…

“So you’re going to go home now and write a post, yes?’ – Adi Koen, just now.

2013 has been one trixsy little pony so far, hasn’t she?  When the clock struck midnight on that first day, I had assumed she would be a middle child year.  Not really kicking up too much fuss, not getting into trouble or marrying a rock star, or woaw, a poet.  But holy panda’s toenails, was I wrong.  She has been an only child, the first child, the last child, the middle child of all middle children, one trixsy little pony.

High fives Autumn in Joburg.  Lightly dusting the city in crunchy, orangy brown leaf goodness.  Just as you should.  The wind blows, leaves shower to the ground.  One thousand cherubs sing.  I am sure of it.

I’ve started calling myself a woman.  I know, I know! But hear me out.  I’m not sure when it happened. The other day? Many days ago?  Somewhere in the last while I went from saying ‘girl’ to ‘woman’.  Maybe it’s the more than three grey hairs that have arrived on my head, or the at-peace-ness or the almost mid-thirty-ness (woaw woaw woaw), but somewhere it started happening and guess what? It sits right.  It makes me want to live up to the word, to fulfill it, to fill it. To be it.  Good things.

Game of Thrones.

Vine.  Are you on it? My vine name is ameezing.  It’s like Instagram. Only 6 seconds of motion. And a leetle bit more addictive.

Good socks, hugs, Milo (hot), daydreams of beach times, scarves cosy enough to be buried in (ewww), wearing stockings and re-enacting scenes from Chicago whilst getting dressed in the morning ‘he had it coming, cha cha’, soup, red wine, Downton Abbey, adopting fire places and snoozing under heavy blankets – things that make Winter okay.

And now, a fitting room picture of an unrequited purchase:

photo 4

When did these become okay? Maybe they haven’t.  Not to worry though, I have a whole Venter trailer load of shudders stored up for the moment that pictures of yourself, by yourself become really not okay.  They’re probably already not okay. But I’m talking, reeaallyy not okay.

Two loads of washing, plants watered, bedroom cleaned, dishes washed, random pictures rearranged and bath taken – things I did to procrastinate, instead of working on a writing deadline.  Clean House – 1 Words – 0.

I asked my friend Ryan what his favourite thing about Joburg is at the moment and he said, ‘All. The. Coffee.  The people on the streets. Post in Braamfontein.  I like that no one I don’t like lives here.’

Doing what you love always feels like such a privilege, doesn’t it?

Also, I’m a middle child.

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I really like days that unfold completely differently to how you imagined they would.  Today was one of those days.

Beauty and the Beast

Birthday card with surprise ticket to Gaga for Joel.

Tipp-Ex, you clam.

These guys and that guy.  More here.

Jocelyn.  Who said to me today, “You look like a Bond Girl.  Except really, really, really (she said ‘really’ 3 times) short”.

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A Change of Plan. And a Caterpillar.

‘I think I have writer’s block’, I tell my brother, Ty, when he asks about my lack of blog posts.

‘No you don’t', he replies. ‘Just not writing is not the same as Writer’s Block.’

And dang, in that moment, I realise that he is completely right.  Not knowing what to say, not knowing how to say it, being unsure if it is good or not, all of that just equals not writing.  And not doing what you love out of fear or apathy or ‘losing your nerve’ sounds like crazy talk.  Crazy talk that very quickly becomes time that passes, leaving a unsettling emptiness, an unfinished sentence, a half drunk cup of tea.

So here’s what I am going to do.  I’m going to write.  Everyday.  Here. For a month.  Seven days a week.  I’m not sure yet what I will say.  Or how I will say it.  But I’m going on a diet.  A diet of words, to shed apathy and fear and well, more apathy.  Words for breakfast, lunch and dinner.  Words.

A month of words.

Hello tummy butterflies.  Let’s begin…

[Read more...]

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Braveness and Cake

You guys, let’s all do what the lovely typography says.

I am so grateful for the work that I have been doing over the past few weeks.

And a sense of capability that is coming with that.  Be gone voices of self doubt, shoo!

 Summer dresses.  Knees and shoulders.  Oh la la.

Doing what scares you until it doesn’t scare you anymore.  It’s a real thing.

I have a cooking lesson booked. Rainbows of high fives to me.

Yesterday, in a professional environment I used the word ‘Swag’. Oh the laughing – them. And the blushing – me.

Friends with cats.



Joburg, we’re all a little bit in love with you right now.

This lovely lady, for endless inspiration and prettiness.


And this cake:


['Be Brave' and Cake]

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11 More Sleeps

There are 11 more sleeps until Spring Day.  I learnt this yesterday from a girl, dressed in gym clothes, in a shop queue, right after she asked me to smell her arm.  It went like this:
[Read more...]

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Like my Grandma always used to say, ‘You never go to Roller Derby without seeing a Picasso in real life first.’


So here’s something kind of cool.  Right now, less than 5 kilometres down the road from where I sit in my lounge in this here rocking chair, a mere metal detector walk away, hangs a painting by Picasso.

Last Saturday, hours before yelling my lungs out at Roller Derby (that post coming soon), two friends and I went to the Standard Bank 20th Century Masters Exhibition to take a look. [Read more...]

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One Ameezing Russian Joburger

I’ve never really played group sports, I don’t participate in raffles and in any kind of crowd activity, I usually observe from afar or hide in the bathroom.  My Team Player Points are almost zero.  Blushy face.

But when I saw a link to my friend Ksenia’s new project I couldn’t help but jump on board and click.  And holy panda’s toenails, I’m so glad I did.

Being a long term, full time, pretty much terminal lover of Joburg, it’s always such a wonderous thing to discover other people’s love of this gritty, little, awesome city too.  And Ksenia has it it truck loads:

[Read more...]

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So I went Speed Dating…

Last Wednesday, the giant pimple on my face and I went Speed Dating.  When my cousin had invited me a few weeks earlier, I absent-mindedly agreed, thinking that I would never really, actually go. At most, I’d maybe just tweet about that one time I almost went Speed Dating.

Wednesday came, along with the most spectacular display of adult acne.  And it was cold.  And I had nothing to wear.  And I reeeally didn’t want to go and meet some crazy man who had gerbils for housemates and thought false nails were a look, for himself.  But then my cousin reminded me of my New Year’s Resolutions and I thought of the blog post material the evening might produce.  Curiosity took over in a force even bigger than my giant pimple, and so off into the cold night air my giant pimple and I went. [Read more...]

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I am @MsAmeezing on Twitter and msameezing on Instagram.  And You?

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