Electrical Failure Due To Lack Of Respect

I’m going to miss my ‘stories’. Judge Judy is on in an hour and there is still no clear indication of when the electricity will be back. I have been productive though. I took myself out to lunch at Toto Vietnamese in Victoria Park and then I spent an hour in Crow Books bookshop and found this little gem.


It’s a graphic novel called ‘The Kurosagi Corpse‘. It came in plastic wrap and intrigued me enough to just buy it on the spot, right there and then, feeding my compulsive hands. Usually I’d have a good flick through to get a gist of what it’s all about but like I said, plastic wrap and opportunity didn’t present itself. Translated from Japanese and described as an “intensely disturbing one-volume story”. It should be good.


We don’t get it enough and we certainly don’t give enough of it. I personally feel as though that I give too much of it. Whilst driving, I always try to be courteous let the guy into the lane I’m in, I buy my friends coffee when we catch up, I’m genuinely grateful and I always (for the most part) mind my p’s and q’s.

Lately, I haven’t been so friendly. Maybe I let my ego get the better of me or maybe I’m just sick of the bullshit. I think it’s the latter that describes how I feel the best.

Why should I have to say ‘hello’ first? I can see what the other person is thinking. “Oh, there’s Sibus. She has this big underlining issue with me. Actually I even think she doesn’t like me.” What I’m really thinking is, “You look busy or you’re talking to someone or you’re doing something. I don’t want to interrupt.”

Social gatherings are interesting too. Especially with girls. I went to a gathering thing a few weeks back and I walked up to this girl and said, “Hey, how are you?” In a jovial tone, I was smiling. She pretty much just ignored me and dragged a chair up to a group of other girls (mutual friends) that we were sitting with. It’s not like we didn’t know each other either. I see her at least a couple times a week and we chat. I didn’t think much of it and a week after the fact, I saw her and she came up to me and started talking.

Social situations can be tough to navigate. I’ve noticed that some people get this elitist “I’m better than you” attitude and it’s sad, really. I’ve had a few friends say to me, on separate occasions in their own words, “I just want to quit. I don’t feel like I fit in.”

I don’t have time to talk smack or worry about the things that don’t concern me. I have my own shit going on. It’s time to re-focus, stop worrying about the person next to you and get some goals, yo! GET_SOME_GOALS.

OMG.. Hahahahaha! I’m sitting here, typing away in the dark and thinking that the power still was disconnected when Chups walks in and turns on the light.

It’s TV time. Don’t hate.

Sibus x



Hey. You.

Thank you, for looking me up on Facebook and WordPress. I just wanted to let you know that, I did read two of the messages you sent me and deleted (without reading) the rest including the comment you posted on my WordPress wall.

Why do insist on making a public spectacle of yourself. Are you a clown?

Anyway. I had considered replying to your first message because you sounded so forlorn and I felt, to be honest, sorry for you. You spent all these years wondering, “What happened?” and “What could have been?” However, after your second message it reminded me of what a puerile human being you were and I decided against it. “Puerile” is a bit harsh, isn’t it?

This morning I woke up an hour early, before the alarm and thought it would a good idea to log onto WordPress and read some of the other WordPress blogs I’ve been following. That’s when I saw your comment and “puerile” was the first thing that popped into my mind.

In your first message, I enjoyed how you were all sympathetic and confused. I must admit, you almost had me there but that was until the auctioneer was just about to beat down his tiny hammer, you sent me your second message. I’m glad you did because who knows, I might have asked you to join me for a coffee and we would have been awkwardly trading stories on what the shits been goin’ down on these last ten or so years.

I showed your message to my friends and they said that I really didn’t need another rock in my shoe no matter how therapeutic I thought it would be for you. This reminds me of a time I went on a school excursion and I forgot my thongs and a  friend lent me her Maseur sandals. We had to walk around this huge man-made dam for what felt like forever and by the end, my feet were killing me. It was a painful experience, much like the coffee we would have had.

Now, I’m going to make reference (again..) to your first message because I feel it is the most relevant. There’s probably a million questions swimming around in your “fish bowl” head.

I will now begin an interview with myself in first person.

Me (being you): “You read my message, why didn’t you reply?!”

Me: “You contacted me using a fake Facebook account. This sent off my alarm bells instantly and while I appreciate your tenacity in going through the process of  making a new email to go with your new Facebook account, I reported you (to Facebook admin) anyway via the clicky report button that they have.”

Me (being you): “Don’t you feel guilty for what ever it is that you did?”

Me: “Do you know what I’ve discovered? Well, I’ve recently found out (and I have you to thank for it) that it’s really really hard to feel apologetic for whatever it is that you’re accusing me of. You had quite a lot to say which is understandable due to my ten year absence in your life. I know you’re just trying to get my attention because you’re all butt-hurt that I didn’t reply to your first message. I accept your apology.”

Me (being you): “So, are you going to reply, ever?”

Me: “That’s a great question! Life’s funny like that isn’t it? Full of unanswered questions. This is one of them.”

Having said all of that, there’s no ‘hating’ on my end.

Learn to be happy, put some of that healthy energy that you have into building up your own family and be grateful for what you already have.

Or, you could get yourself a new hobby.

– S

PS. Oh. Before I forget. Thank you for reading my blog; appreciate the hit.


In my generation, after my mother and fathers, I am the first grandchild for both their parents.

On my father’s side, I am also the only grandchild my grandfather has ever known. He died from cancer in the same year that I was born.

Sometimes I think that it would have been nice if he was still around.


It’s a fucking horror show out there. I’m talking about a mother effing shitstorm. Thirty year olds all over the world are defacating and building high walls out of poo. I now understand why they call it, The Dirty Thirties.

My google search of advice on “turning 30”, insinuates that I would have clinical depression or I’m SO INSANELY HAPPY! (which is still described as clinical depression). According to one insightful column all I need is,“A set of screwdrivers, a cordless drill, and a black lace bra.” I feel like such a modern woman now. I can drill lots of holes in my walls whilst dancing around provocatively in my underwear. My grandfather would have been so very proud.


My mother will probably buy me another dining set, as she has been for the past five years. It’s exciting because I’m sick of eating off the same boring dinner plate. I look forward to more entertaining dinner plate designs.


I don’t have anything profound to say about becoming thirty. I am not, by any means, defined by a number.

You can choose how you live your life. If you don’t like it, then change it. Don’t blame it on anyone else and especially not on something so trivial as a number.

This reminds me of a conversation between a friend and I.

“I don’t believe in parent parking.
It’s not a disability.
It’s a choice!”

Hahahaha! Terrible but also funny.

“Happy THIRTIETH Birthday, Sibby. Aren’t you glad you made it?”

I’m giving the finger to my sixteen year old self, you pessimistic young bastard.

Sibby xx

The Empathetic Cat

Who am I kidding. Cats do not have empathy. They are patient hunters. They will wait for you to die and then.. They will eat you. Hell. I would eat you if I was trapped in a house with no food and no escape. It’s called survival.

I just googled – ‘cats eating dead owner’ and I came across a website containing graphic images of a half eaten body. Want to see it? http://www.documentingreality.com/forum/f10/cats-eat-dead-owner-51638/

Yesterday I found myself in a traffic jam. I’m half hanging out the window of my little black Rio yelling, “mother fuckers” at the traffic as we hurtled forward in first gear.

Ten minutes later and approaching the end, the cause of the delay became clear. A car accident.

My Thought Process.

At first I was annoyed because there is nothing more annoying than someone getting into a vehicle collision and causing an inconvenience to everyone else who has some place to be.

And then..

I felt sympathetic towards who ever was involved [in the vehicle collision]. My trip may have taken me that extra ten minutes but today is one of the worst days of someone’s life.

Suddenly, I didn’t feel so mad.

Sibby x

Daydreaming While Driving Cars Is Never A Good Idea

Today I realised.. That inside my chest there is a heart.

And it fucking hurts and these tears, they will dry inside my eyes before I let them escape down my face.

Scenario – Your life put into words and verbally expressed to you out aloud and it sounds exactly like that little voice inside your head that’s been telling you what the right thing to do is.

Decisions? Decisions.

Some decisions require serious consideration OR I could shoot myself in the head.

What it all comes down to..

I miss my best friend.

I miss you hard and it hurts.

Dead people don’t have feelings. I’m not dead. Sad but true.

Sibby x

Some Days

Run with the Wind by Dappled Cities on replay.

I just want to lay on the floor all day and do nothing.

I don’t feel playful or particularly happy. It’s more of a neutral feeling border lining on *dramatic depression. If I watched ‘**Spirited Away’, I’d probably weep throughout the whole film.

[*Dramatic depression – The world is falling apart. It’s not really falling apart.]

[**Spirited Away – A very much loved anime by Hayao Miyazaki. It is excellent. http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Spirited_Away]

There is a disconnect.

Sibby x

**edit – I wanted to explain how I felt but I find it difficult to express it in words. I also didn’t have very much to say.

I still don’t.

Growing Down

“Steph, don’t you think it’s time to grow up?”

What does this mean to ‘grow up’? I can deal with being a bit more taller, it would be nice. Maybe I’d be wiser too and possibly grow a long grey beard?

Jokes aside, this is what a friend said to me today and it caught me off guard. I even think I was a bit offended.

Before I get ahead of myself and think dark thoughts of revenge I’d like to ask myself a few questions:

What will I do with my new found ‘maturity’?

My humour would change and my jokes will become more ‘adult’. I’d set aside my appreciation of anti-jokes and achieve a deep sophisticated woman’s laugh.

I have to go now. I’ve just watched a documentary on sharks and it’s very important I tell someone.

Look! Bunny! Happy Easter.

Hello, ‘Friend.’

Today I realised.. That no matter how much you help a friend out you will never feel appreciated.

You can be the bestest person in whole damn world and people will still be a bit shit. Just remember, it’s not your fault. It’s theirs.

It’s more of a personal issue for me. I can either deal with it or let it get the better of me. Today it’s the latter.

There are three general rules I try follow to make situations like these more palatable.

1. If you lend money or do a favour. Don’t expect it back.

2. Do what is humanly possible to help a friend out because you are a good friend.

3. Keep secrets and watch your mouth. (This one is not a ‘try’. I keep secrets and take them to my grave.)

Seriously. A fucking please and thank you would be fabulous and acknowledge that I helped your sorry ass out.

You’re shit. Sad but true..

Rock. Off.

Today I realised… Vodka.

I was still pretty hammered at 7 in the morning. I went from “Rock’n Roll” to “Vodka’n Guts” in a time period of 12 hours. The next day was Hell to pay and in my head all I can think of is, “never again, NEVER again..” and “Is my liver broken?”

Events that occurred in no particular order.

– My sister’s friend has a very good middle eastern accent. That taxi ride was SO hilariously awkward.

– Some guy tried to offer me a drink he apparently bought for his ‘friend’..

– Another guy slurred a pick up line and spilt his drink all over me. Smooth. I was going to make a dirty joke about being wet but no.

– Drama. Drama. It’s bound to happen when you’re with a group girly girls or girly boys. What’s a party without some tears?

– Danced crazy for four hours straight. I was well sweaty by the end. If you received a drunk, sweaty hug from me – I hope you ENJOYED it because I apologise for nussing! Bahahaha!

– Bumped into a very old friend from my home town. Holy shit, we all so grown up now!

HUGE thank you to my sister for keeping the boys away and keeping  the night legit. You’re the best!

I was home by 5am. Sad but true…

I just wanted to dance a little bit longer.

Limits. Everybody Has One.

Today I realised.. That everyone has their limits.

There are situations where you know, deep down inside, what the right thing to do is.

You don’t do it.

Instead you’ll hold on till the bitter end when things get hairy. The uglier it becomes, the tighter your grip.

Until there’s nothing left.

We’re dancing with the beast..

Sad but true..