My Me First Complex

So, after months of thinking about it, dreaming about it, wondering about it and, if I'm honest, obssessing about it, I have finally started a blog.

I'm still not sure exactly what I want to achieve by this. All I know is that I have a big mouth, many (usually stubbornly biased) opinions and occasionally some amusing anecdotes that I like to share with my friends and family, so why not with the rest of the world?

Ok, that's bollocks - here's the real reason: a friend of mine just got nominated for an SA Blog of the Year award. And I decided if she can get nominated for an award for writing, then why the hell can't I? I'm afraid I'm still very high school like that... what, the class nerd just bought himself a sweet townhouse in Camps Bay? I'm contacting an estate agent today. My old best friend from Matric just got married? I'm on the phone to the wedding planner as we speak. I feel this constant need to win the race - not than anyone else knows they're in the race with me. They are just naturally moving forward with Life, as you do, and I am the sweaty, gasping crazy person running behind them shouting, Stop! You made a false start!

I am a very ordinary person in an extraordinary world, surrounded by other extraordinary people (and I'm sure very ordinary ones as well, but with my eyes set firmly on the finish line where the Joneses are celebrating, I only see those that are apparently doing better than me). I have a Me First Complex. Sometimes this proves to be a useful tool in life, as in: Dad, me first in my class for English, or Mom, me first choice for the lead in the school play. Other times, not so much.... as in, Honey, me first in line at the January sales, and me fought this bitch for the half price Prada dress and won. That's nice babe, did you pay the rent yet? Er... actually I maxed out my credit card on the dress. Or, Sweetie, me first in our group of friends to have a baby. That's nice hun, did you remember to feed the neighbour's cat? What cat....

Being first is not always good for one's constitution. Sometimes, one's constitution is simply not ready for it. For example, I am in a great hurry to buy a house (read: small flat in dodgy area of Southern Suburbs in CT where we can afford the levy AND the bond). Everytime I hear of a friend/family member/worst enemy buying property, my blood begins to boil quietly and I start making mental lists of food and toiletries we can go without this month so we can save for a deposit instead. I'm a bit manic about it, to be honest - if you spoke to me, you'd genuinely start believing that the government has revealed a cut-off date for purchasing property, and anyone missing said date will have to rent for the rest of their lives. Or that by the year 2009, everyone not owning property will be forced to live in caravans.

I am trying to calm down on this subject, and often hold heated arguments with myself about the dangers of rushing into things. They usually go something like this:
Myself: If you do it before you're ready, you're only going to regret it - you could even lose the house.
My other self: Where there's a will there's a way.
Myself: No but, you're not listening to me; you could not only lose the house through lack of money, you could lose your relationship by putting too much pressure on yourself.
My other self: Nothing ventured, nothing gained.

My other self is full of clever sayings.

Anyway, that's really why I'm here in London. To (slowly) work my way up to the point where I have enough pounds saved to put down a deposit on my coveted house, and then I can go back to Cape Town and live happily ever after. And, of course, to travel the world, while I'm here. And it's the same for the other 3 million South Africans in London, I'm sure.

At least, on the way to achieving these goals, I am having some priceless experiences that I am documenting both in word and picture. Even if I never make the house, at least I will always have the photo albums and e-mails.