The teenager in me.

I was quiet last week, because work stuck me at a stand at the Marketing Indaba for two days. Oh the joy! It ended in a successful pizza evening at Col'Cacchio where I was being adventurous for a change and 10 hours of sleep followed by a full yoga class. It was in fact so full that some new girls timidly asked whether the classes were always that full or if they could still bring more people along in the future.

I will write something more coherent than a weekend recap later, but did want to share something that my yoga studio just posted quickly. In general I hate motivational quotes on blogs, facebook, etc. and don’t like posting them myself but this stuck with me and just made me very happy:

Come, come, whoever you are.
Wanderer, worshipper, lover of living, it doesn't matter
Ours is not a caravan of despair.
Come even if you have broken your vow a thousand times,
Come, yet again, come, come.

In case you wonder, it is by Rumi, who was a 13th century poet and Sufi mystic. I have decided that any quotes by Dr. Seuss and Rumi will get a carte blanche from me.

On another note – I got a lovely email from my sister this morning, praising my blog and my stories and my writing in general. Very sweet indeed. Then she suggested to put my stories in a book and name it something like “Experiences and life of a Teenie”. I’m unsure whether that was supposed to be a compliment or an insult. I am well aware of the fact that I do sometimes still behave like a teenager, but... I am actually not and quite happy about it. Do my stories make me sound like a teenager? Again, not so sure... Only few excitements actually happened when I was still living at home. I was in fact such a good teenager that my mother suggested I should ditch more classes and have more fun. Okay, she took that back quickly, but you get my idea. Either way, from now I on I shall indicate time and era of stories of my life more clearly.

P.S. The only “naughty” story I can remember, which my sister could relate to anyhow was the time I bought my 1001. Barbie. I was 11 or so and still needed an adult with me to go draw money from the bank with me. Since my mother said I had enough Barbies already (can one ever really have enough Barbies??) and wouldn’t allow it, I convinced my sister to go with. She took me to the bank and then to the store. I’m sure it was worth all the trouble she got in once we went into our sauna in the basement to see the glow-in-the-dark Barbie glow and my little face glowing as well.