Back in the house

Hey, hey people.

It really has been a very long time.

It turns out that dark nights of the soul don’t just happen once in a lifetime – I used to think that they did. You know, that moment when you realise that your parents are just people like you (apparently this devastates modern children), your first break up – or your worldview getting it’s ass kicked on prime time news.

Thought that was all behind me. 

Then I got hit by three manageable problems simultaneously – the worst one being the loss of my Dad – and they formed a perfect storm that wasn’t manageable at all. I was back in that weirdly tilting in-between place that is a dark night of the soul. 

I suppose the major difference is experience. 

Didn’t freak out or lose the general plot, but took to my cave and didn’t have much to say. Instead, I discovered two major time and creativity drains – cable TV and Twitter. 

I’ve never subscribed to cable because bad public-broadcaster TV is an excellent spur to writing – anything I can think of just has to be better than what I’m watching. And Twitter was some short-byte babble-stream that technoids and starlets used to either market themselves, gossip or keep their fingers busy at the dinner table.

As it normally goes, I was right and I was wrong. 

Cable did, exactly as I thought it would, entrap me – I couldn’t turn my eyes away. 

Sometimes in horror (think Mob Wives here), sometimes in wonder and often in healing laughter (think Stewie and Roger here).

Twitter turned out to be better than I thought it’d be.

I’ve gotten to engage with some phenomenal South Africans and a few people I admire from other parts of the world.  Some people can sing, some can dance – my thing is to be a peace-keeper, and I got to use my moderating skills a couple of times.

And today, on this first truly rainy winter day in Cape Town, I realised that it was over – I’d made it through to the other side of my dark night.

So, I’m back.

And this is the view from the bedroom window of my new home.

 

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