Carpe diem

There's something SO weird about how I live my life - there are two things that I absolutely love that I just keep putting off: playing my guitar, and blogging. I don't understand it at all. 

There's so much to write about, but I'll mention just a few. It's past 11pm, and I'm really tired. 

Towards the end of August, our school had a Wellness programme for the staff, and I was shocked to discover that my blood pressure was really high. Accustomed to having normal readings, I was quite alarmed. About a week later, I checked it again at a local pharmacy, and it was roughly the same. Then I had an experience one night, where I thought I was having a heart attack. The next day, I went to the doctor, who found my BP was still high, and that my heart rate was also elevated. I had a few tests, and nothing was apparent regarding the heart rate, but I was put on a tablet to bring down the BP. I also had to buy a monitor, to do daily readings. I'm just finishing my tenth week of that. This is all very new to me.  The BP is a lot better, mostly within the normal range, but the heart rate is still alarming.  

Thinking about my health and what could've contributed to my concerning readings, I'm convinced my job is at the heart of it (no pun intended). When I'm not at school, I sit for hours, doing schoolwork. And I know I've been comfort eating since I started living in this flatlet. So it's the stress of my job, my sedentary lifestyle, and my undisciplined eating. There's probably some hormonal stuff, as well as genetics,  and not forgetting ageing. 

So, as part of improving my health, I've become more mindful. I'm consciously trying not to stress as much at work (NOT easy), and I'm proud to say that I've started a weekly routine of taking a walk in nature. Every Sunday morning, for the past 5 weeks, I've done so. I would love to do it daily, but right now that's not possible.  

I'm also working on having better boundaries (linked to stress levels), and - another BIG thing in my life - getting enough sleep.  I've been doing the too-little-sleep thing for so many years, it's a real struggle to get to bed at a healthy time.  

Needless to say, I've become very aware of my mortality, and am trying to live my life with a healthy sense of carpe diem. Maybe my heart's beating so fast for a reason.

I had to take a big decision, recently, on a matter of principle, and even that was about wanting to live without ambiguity, and staying true to my values. 

I have two more days before my November exam marks are due, which means HOURS and HOURS of marking, both tomorrow and Monday. There's so much about our education system I just don't understand. Our school was denied permission to start our final exams on the same date that  neighbouring schools started theirs; as a result, we are really pressed for time, regarding submission of marks. With a fairly large contingent of our staff involved in marking matric exams, our window of time between the end of exams and the date they report to the marking centre is painfully small. This kind of man-made pressure is something I will never understand. It feels arbitrary and avoidable. So we're killing ourselves, trying to meet the deadline, and then when the others leave for external marking, a day or two later, we have way too many days to clean classroom cupboards.

I've been involved in a project called Quilting for Palestine, along with lots of other women. We knitted and crocheted squares in the colours of the Palestinian flag, and are now in the process of sewing them together. Next Saturday, on International Palestine Solidarity Day, we'll be showing the huge blanket in public.  It's been a deeply moving experience, so far, and I think next Saturday is going to feel a lot more so.         

I think I should end off now. This hasn't been an award-winning post, but maybe that's my problem - I don't want to do lukewarm, so I end up not doing anything.

Ok, I promise I will play my guitar and blog more frequently.

And life, while we have it, goes on.    

Oudtshoorn and Paternoster

And today, on 22 November, I'm finally posting something that's been sitting in my draft folder for months. It ends a bit abruptly, but I have no idea what else I wanted to write, back then.  Anyway, here goes.

~~~~~~

What do Oudtshoorn and Paternoster have in common? They were both visited by ME this year! :-) 

This year has been different in a number of ways, including that I've gone away for a few days in both school holidays, thus far. In the March holiday, along with three colleagues, I accompanied 38 high school kids to the 29th annual Klein Karoo Nasionale Kunstefees (KKNK). This trip, which included two long bus rides of about seven hours each, plus multiple short trips within Oudtshoorn, was made possible by the organisers of the KKNK, in partnership with the WCED. The participating schools were all Arts Focus schools, from previously disadvantaged communities. 

How did I get involved? One of our teachers (Drama) was unable to make it, so I was approached. I fall into that demographic of teachers with no dependants, so I'm occasionally asked to do things like this that may be inconvenient or difficult for people with families.  Sometimes it's really cool, like the KKNK one. 

We were accommodated in a school hostel, where we had most of our meals. With eight schools, and roughly 40 kids and 4 teachers per school, as well as officials from the Education Dept, we were about 400 in total. Female teachers and students stayed in one building, and male teachers and students in another.  Breakfast was punctually at 07h00, and within an hour, the first activity of the day commenced. Sometimes this was a workshop or rehearsal at the school, and sometimes it was hopping onto our bus (comfy, with an excellent driver), to attend a show at the festival. 

We saw theatre performances, ballet and modern dance, live music at the big 'feesterrein' (festival grounds), as well as art exhibitions and other fascinating things on display at the festival. Most things were in Afrikaans, and some of our kids struggled to follow some of the dialogue in the theatrical pieces. 

I could go on and on, but I'm timing myself for this post, because of my looming To Do list. School starts in two days, so I'm in planning mode. 

What were the highlights for me, besides feasting my eyes, for hours, on the different landscapes and mountain passes that fed my soul? (Yes, I enjoyed the bus rides!) Well, I really enjoyed being around the schoolkids and watching them shine in their different art forms - Visual Art, Drama, Dance and Music. I enjoyed walking around the town to the different art exhibitions, where I saw some incredible art (that we were not allowed to photograph, in most cases). I loved the show by Cape Ballet Africa, and I was moved to tears by the opera singing of Lynelle Kenned, who sang 'O Mio Babbino Caro' - an aria from Puccini's Gianni Schicchi - which my mother used to sing. But the highlight of my KKNK experience was the theatre piece 'Laaitie mettie biscuits', written and directed by Christo Davids. The cast of four kept us riveted for the entire performance. I actually don't know when last theatre has affected me that way. To the writer (who was there, in the audience), the cast, and everyone else involved in the production: Bravissimo! I would love to watch this production again. I highly recommend it as a piece of South African theatrical excellence. 

We left school on the morning of Monday 31 March, and returned on the evening of Thursday 3 April. Given that it was just a short school holiday, when we started the new term, on Tuesday 8 April, I felt like I needed a holiday. Having said  as much, I am very happy that I went, and happy that it sparked in me a desire to travel to more towns in the Western Cape. 

In this school holiday (we return to school in two days' time), my daughter treated me to a holiday in a seaside town called Paternoster. Cape Town has the luxury of two coastlines, with different oceans (Atlantic and Indian), and Paternoster is on the West Coast. Roughly two hours' drive from Cape Town, it is a fishing town that seems to derive quite a bit of its income from the tourism industry.  My daughter found a beautiful house, with all the creature comforts, where we stayed for three nights. The best part was spending time with my daughter, and the second best part was living 100m from the sea! We walked on the beach every day, and woke up and fell asleep to the sound of he sea. My idea of heaven on earth! 

On our way to Paternoster, we spent about two hours at !Kwah Ttu, the San Heritage Centre. It was impressive, to say the least, and I learnt a lot. I'd like to go back again sometime. 

On our way back, we stopped in Langebaan. another coastal favourite, where we attempted to walk on the beach but just managed to take a few photos, because it was so cold and windy. We did manage to find a little restaurant where we enjoyed our final holiday meal, and visit my former hairdresser, Roz, at her salon. (Now that I know how relatively close Langebaan is,.......) 

 

Profound goodbyes

I'm always astounded at how much time I let pass between blog posts. As I've written many times before, I think about blogging all the time. There's so much of life that I want to put down in writing, but I just don't. As I've also written many times before, it's in my daily journalling that I express my raw feelings about life and its beauty and strangeness.

Since I last wrote, four people in my circle have passed away: in March, it was Harriet Enus, the mom of my dear friend, Anton (whom I met at age six, in Durban). In June, it was a friend, Trevor Roberts, who died a few months after being diagnosed with an inoperable brain tumour. Trevor was also a friend I'd met in Durban, at age six. In July, it was Margaret Schultz, the mom of another dear friend, Sandi. My thoughts are with those families, as they grieve for their loved ones.  

The fourth one, the one that changed my world fundamentally, was on 5 May, when my mom died, the day before her 95th birthday. 

I could probably spend many years blogging about my mom and what she meant to me, and I hope to put as much as possible in writing, over time. At this stage, two and a half months after her passing, my thoughts turn to her every day. A friend asked recently how I was coping, and I replied that I thought about her in categories.  I think about my mom as she was during my childhood, when she was my whole world. I think about her during my teenage years, when I'd started making choices that conflicted with my upbringing  - like joining different churches, and getting baptised in a 'born-again' church. I think about her when I was a young adult, teaching, living on my own, my life filled with the drama of tempestuous relationships. I think about her when I was married and became a mom, how her love for her children automatically spilled over to her grandchildren. (My sister had her two children in the 1980s, and I had mine in the 1990s.)   

I think about my mother in her senior years, before she was struck down by Alzheimer's.  She was independent, taking public transport to Claremont on pension day, taking herself for a modest meal at Wimpy (sometimes taking a grandchild along), kept putting on and performing in concerts in her early 80s, and was a solid source of love and support for her family. No-one in my life has ever loved and supported me that much. She was unique to me. She loved us unconditionally. 

When she became ill (diagnosed with Amnestic Syndrome in 2012, and Alzheimer's Disease, a year later), and needed to live in a place where she could be cared for 24/7, I had to be honest that I was not by the means - financially and emotionally - to take on that responsibility. My sister opened her home to my mom, which is where she lived for the next thirteen years, until her death, at home. My sister cared for her, with love, humour, and the expertise gained from her nursing career, and involved her in family events. I am acutely aware of what a huge undertaking that was and will always be grateful for that immense outpouring of love over all those years. It takes a kind of superhero to do such prolonged caregiving. 

For the first seven years of my mother's illness, she spent every second weekend with me. During the Covid lockdown, she couldn't leave the house, and that lack of relief placed a huge burden on my sister. Around that same time, I was having online therapy sessions to deal with some long-standing issues, and one of the outcomes was that I needed to reduce the frequency of my weekends with my mom, in order to take better care of myself. When lockdown was over, I then had my mom with me one weekend a month. It meant a lot to me to be able to spend that time with her, while it saddened me to watch her condition worsening over time. 

One year ago, when I downsized my living space, in order to cope financially (and work away the debt incurred by College of Cape Town not paying my salary for 6 months), I moved into an affordable place just big enough for one person. I budgeted to spend our monthly weekends together at suitable Airbnbs, which I thought we could turn into little adventures. At that time, my sister informed me that our mom's condition was such that it was no longer advisable for her to sleep out of the house.   

I think about my mother when, despite having Alzheimer's, she could still sight-read, and play the  piano. I think about her sense of humour that was evident until about a month before she died. I think about how, in that last month of her life, she lost her ability to walk, and all the ramifications of that loss. I think about how she could no longer swallow properly, and my sister had to feed her soft things like soup, yoghurt, and Ensure. 

I think about the Sunday night my sister messaged me to say that Mom wasn't doing well, and that she had had the priest around to anoint her.  I realised that things were very serious, and went there the next day, to spend time with my mom and my sister. From the morning, already, Mom was displaying the death rattle, which was unnerving to hear. I won't go into any of the details of that day (although I think about them a lot), except to say that she died at 22h15 that night. 

There were quite a few things related to what happens after someone dies that made me feel alienated, but that's personal stuff I have to process over time. 

Mom died on Monday 5 May, her funeral was on Friday 9 May, and her ashes were interred on Sunday 29 June.  

And now, life goes on. But differently. I could never be my mother - she was unique, anyway - but I think both her children and her four grandchildren bear elements of her, which is a beautiful legacy. I will honour her by living as authentically as I can, opening myself to life and its energies, being loving and supportive to the people I hold dear, and always having music in my life.  

                        Mom, a few years ago, playing the piano she bought in Durban, +- 1970

Dreams and dreams

Today is the final day of a three-day-long weekend, and the final day before the last week of the first school term.  I am about to spend my third consecutive day marking. I could spend this entire post complaining, analysing, coming up with suggestions for how the system could be improved, but there's something futile about it. Isn't that just an awful feeling? Having so much to say, so many ideas that are implementable, but feeling a sense of  overwhelming futility?

I had the strangest dream, last night. Sometimes I remember my dreams in detail, and at other times, I wake up knowing I've had a busy dream, but not recalling a thing.  I was in a plane with a friend - a normal passenger plane that seats hundreds of people. It's someone I seldom see, but whom I saw a few days ago, Oh, in fact it's her birthday today! We were seated next to each other, and I decided I wanted to relax on the roof of the plane. Yes. I took my relaxing things with me, climbed some stairs, and went to lie down on a deck on the top of the aeroplane - outside. Nothing wrong with that, right? :-) I was awoken by a phone call from my daughter, who was angry that I hadn't wished her for her birthday. I felt the plane start to descend, so I told her I had to get back inside because it had started its descent. I went back inside, and the dream continued for quite long after that, with me inevitably looking for something I'd misplaced, and everyone realising that a woman seated one row from us was the wife of Jonah Lomu, the late great All Blacks rugby superstar. Random, Trudes!!! I don't even like rugby!    

So, before I launch into the serious stuff of the day, what can I write about?

A different kind of dream. A dream of a lifestyle completely different to the one I have. In this dream,  I live so close to the ocean, that part of my daily routine is a leisurely walk on the beach. I walk in the shallow water, and I feel an incredible sense of oneness with nature. The sensation of the water and sand on my skin, and the sounds of the waves and the seagulls, as well as the fresh smell of the ocean, fill my soul with such deep peace and joy, that I feel like a child again. I have always loved the sea, and it still feels like my place of innocence and joy, before life showed me the things I wasn't raised to expect.

I remember, in my childhood, being given the nickname "Water" (in Afrikaans - spelt the same as in English), because wherever we went, I was always the first to get into the water, and was happiest when I could stay there for most of the outing.  I watch my daughter in the sea, now, and know that she's the same. Water is her element. Interesting - she's a fire sign and I'm an earth sign. I suppose both need water for something or the other.  Come to think of it, my son swims practically every day, so I suppose it's in all of us, that love for water. And their dad was a competitive swimmer, at high school. So they get it from both of us. Yup.

I have to fight through the layers of adult awareness to remember the sheer delight of my experiences in the sea. They continued into my adult life, actually. In my twenties, I hung out with a group of  lifesavers, where the ocean and the beach were what life was all about. Oh, they also swam competitively (a very competitive bunch, come to think of it), and played water polo as well. I spent a lot of time at the beach back then. My car was always full of sand, but I remember the good feeling of having spent a day swimming in the sea and relaxing on the sand - that luxurious tiredness, the eyes stinging from the salt, the skin warm from the sun, and the pleasurable sensation of a soft t-shirt touching your skin before you drove home. Oh, and the hunger!!! The sea gives one such an appetite!

I also enjoyed the beach for just soaking up the sun. My cousin, Tracy, and I loved going to Saunders Rock, in Sea Point, to just lie in the sun! We'd read, talk, or just lie on our towels in silence, lathered in sunblock (or was it suntan lotion, at the time?), working on our tans. I don't think we were even aware of the benefits of the sun, nor of the possible dangers of over-exposure. We were just enjoying ourselves. I even got into the habit of timing myself, spending equal amounts of time lying on my tummy and on my back. :-)          

But, back to my dream. (Can you imagine how I struggle to meditate without a guided soundtrack?!) I would complete my walk, then go back to my cosy, comfortable cottage, which has all the creature comforts - including wifi - and proceed with the rest of my day.  After my shower, I'd have a tasty breakfast, while watching the sea. Then I'd switch on my laptop, and do some work. My work entails writing, proofreading and editing. I get paid by individuals and companies, but I also allocate time to doing pro bono work for NPOs. Besides that, I spend time creating crocheted and knitted items, which I sell. I do my creative stuff at a pace that suits me. I also sell recordings of my original songs, performing only when all the elements appeal to me. 

Another of my passions I obviously pursue is my love for radio. I have a weekly programme on radio, where I interview interesting people, and play music in between the chatting. Just like I did in 2014. I love being back on radio. 

One of my main activities, in my cosy cottage by the sea, where I inhale fresh air, allow myself to be be mesmerised and humbled by the sunrises and sunsets, and live life at my own pace, is writing. Did I mention that I am a published author, in my dream? Yes, I am. Most people don't know that my love for writing often supercedes my love for making music. I can go for days without playing my guitar, but not without writing. My widely-read books take me to interesting places, where I engage with school children and adults, discussing topics I've explored.   

(I have just deleted an entire paragraph, which I can't seem to retrieve!) 

 At the end of the day, just before sunset, I take another walk on the beach. I reflect on my day and allow nature to inspire me. 

I come back, enjoy my supper while watching the sunset, then have another shower - ooh, or a leisurely bath, because my cosy cottage by the sea will of course have a bath - before settling down to do whatever pleases me.    

The paragraph I deleted had something about scheduling time with family and friends, and enjoying hanging out with them, sometimes going to new places and having new experiences - all without feeling pressured or rushed. I think that's what I'm yearning for. Not just autonomy, but a slower, less frenzied, pace of life that feels manageable, but also varied and enjoyable. I have to have something to look forward to. 

I'm 63 and a half years old. How feasible is my dream? I think I should simply start introducing bits of it at a time, like one creates a granny-square blanket. In the end, after quite a bit of chaos - and doubt - it all comes together beautifully. I think that's a great metaphor. Maybe that's why I felt compelled to write today. I seldom know where the writing will take me. I quite like that feeling. 

                            2024 - assembling squares of a blanket made with my cousin, Theresa.

I owe it to myself

I moved into my flatlet (my "tiny house") in the middle of last year. It was one of the biggest changes I'd voluntarily undertaken in a long time.  I must admit, I find change exciting, and I get restless when things stay the same for too long. Not that they do, because, within the apparent sameness, there's a lot of volatility. After I'd settled in, I thought I'd embark on a big new adventure every six months, but life kept me so busy and distracted, that I think I'm probably looking at a new adventure every 12 months.  

So what's the big 'adventure' I want this year? Well, I'll keep the details private for now. Working on it. I tend to procrastinate, but when my restlessness reaches boiling point, I spring into action, somewhat impatient to arrive at my new destination. We'll see.   

I caught part of a video, recently, where Jane Fonda (US actress, with a long history of  human rights activism) was interviewed. She said that, as she got older (she's 87), she decided that, to experience life fully, she would go about her life more intentionally. It really resonated with me. You know what I hate? I hate looking back at a period of time, and feeling like all I've actually focussed on is survival. I hate that! And I won't feel guilty for wanting more. There has to be more to life.  

There's so much more I could be filling my life with, so much I could be creating, so many songs I could be learning, writing, or singing, but here I am, plodding through day after day of what's expected of me, thinking and saying what's expected of me, and wondering when I'll find the time to do what makes my soul soar - what I expect of myself.  

I know, having been through this many times before, that restlessness is a necessary precursor to change. My life, starting from my childhood, has been a developing story with many, quite distinct, chapters.  It's time to work on a suitable ending for this one, and write the next.  Nature does it all the time - as the seasons change, different trees take their turns to bear their unique fruits.  

   I took this pic of the guava tree outside my kitchen on 2 March. 

Yes - I'll write that new chapter intentionally. 

I owe it to myself.    

Reflecting on Week 1 of the new school year

It's the first weekend of the first school term, and I have two whole days to myself.

Ever since I can remember, I've been aware of myself operating on two planes - doing, and observing. Because we live and work within communities, our smooth functioning is closely linked to the people within those communities. I can honestly say that all the structure and smooth functioning that I experienced at school this week was a result of the efficiency of others there. I am deeply grateful to be teaching at a school with such a high level of structure. I firmly believe that, in any context, the leadership sets the tone for others to follow. I noticed this last year, already - the level of preparation of  senior management had a knock-on effect on the rest of the staff. Similarly, I believe that, in the classroom, the teacher sets the tone for what happens there and how it happens. Yes, we're dealing with about 35 different personalities in every class we teach, but we, as teachers, determine the atmosphere in our classes. 

Last year, I was so aware of myself as new at the school, learning as I went along, that I wasn't as on top of things as I prefer to be. It was a year of intense learning. I feel a lot more settled, after teaching there for a full school year, and I have a better grasp of how much of myself I can put into my job. I think last year also taught me how little time there was to get through the syllabus. It comes right back to what I wrote in a previous post - I learnt to pace myself. And I will continue to learn. The day I stop learning is the day life stops being interesting. 

I'm teaching two subjects, across four grades. I have supportive colleagues, so I have no doubt it's going to be a good year. This time of the year, our school does athletics, so from next week that will form part of every day. It's a short burst for most of us, because, from February, we're no longer involved. That's when our sports specialists train the top athletes for the inter-school event and beyond. 

I love having my own classroom!  After just three days of teaching, I can feel the distinct advantages. The walking around, last year, entailed a layer of stress I no longer have. Now, between classes, I just put one file, one textbook and set of notes away, and take out the next. I clean the board, wait IN MY ROOM for the children to arrive, let them in, and teach.  I love it! And I have a beautiful view from my upstairs classroom, so when I do have a few minutes, I can simply take in the view. These are blessings for which I am grateful.  

                                            View from my classroom - January 2025

As I settle in to the academic year, I'm also excited about decorating my classroom with a combination of things. Yes, it's still exciting, even 41 years after I started my teaching career. I've got some nice ideas I'll start implementing next week.   

With Week 1 of 11 behind me, I am aware that, in a job like mine, even my weekends need structure, as a lot of schoolwork is done in one's private time. In fact, I think it's time to start accepting that the concept of private time is more linked to corporate-sector work, and that teachers get very little of it during term time. Ooh, why does that feel so wrong for me?! It's a challenge I will keep working on. Balance is very important, so I need to find a way to make sure my weekends have both school prep time, as well as relaxation and personal fulfilment. It gets tricky when I have social commitments over weekends. What really stresses me is having commitments on both days of a weekend. Anyway.... this is just me writing as I think things through. In the end, I always come up with a plan, and I somehow manage to get everything done. One thing I need to guard against is getting into a pattern of having too little sleep, doing schoolwork till well after midnight. Been there, done that. It's neither healthy nor sustainable. And life's too short.  

All things considered, Week 1 was a great start.  Now for the next ten. :-)

True Peace

It's 2025. A whole new year! 

I'm sitting at my kitchen table, it's pitch dark outside, and I've got practically every window and external door open, to cool the place down. Earlier, I was posting on Facebook, and I put on a YouTube video of calming rain sounds - something I often do when I want to focus, but my mind wanders too much. I actually do it before I fall asleep sometimes. But now, the rain sounds feel intrusive, so I'll switch off the video and type in silence. I think the action of typing  calms me down enough, and focuses me. I write, therefore I am.    

I have three days left of my glorious four-week summer holiday, and I feel a huge sense of satisfaction, because I got through almost everything on my list, and I managed to do fun things that fed my soul. I also feel good, because I managed to pace myself, alternating busy/people days with being alone. Being alone fuels me. Being single means I don't need to justify that anymore - I can simply be who I am. It may sound selfish, but I think I've spent most of my life putting everyone else's needs before my own, and now it's time for me. I think a lot of women in their sixties feel this way. 

There are three more friends I was hoping to see before going back to school, and I'll probably get to see only one. The others I'll arrange to see over a weekend, once school has resumed.

It sounds like it's actually started to rain! That should cool things down nicely. 

I popped in at school today, to see the classroom I'd been allocated for the year. Last year, I didn't have a classroom, so I was a 'roaming' teacher, walking from class to class. I'm excited for the school year ahead, and want to keep learning, to add value to the kids and to the school. 

As I contemplate the year ahead, I'm more aware than ever that life can take one by surprise. You can start the year thinking you're going to achieve X, Y and Z, but  things crop up that shift your attention and energy completely. 

Here are some of the most important lessons I learnt (or re-learnt) last year:

- When someone shows you their true colours, believe what you're seeing. 

- In most situations in life, I have a choice. 

- No matter what life throws at me, there's always some way in which I can be true to myself.  I may not be able to walk away from the situation, but I can refuse to compromise my principles.     

- The cliché that's absolutely true: When you fail to plan, you plan to fail.  

- The universe will always send me kindred spirits, wherever I am. 

-The universe will always send me music, which is the magic I need every single day. (One of the music rooms at school is adjacent to the staffroom, and it's the most wonderful feeling to be sitting there during a free period, listening to the kids/teachers playing anything from classical to jazz.)  

- And lastly: the person I can rely on 100% is myself.  

This holiday has reminded me about something else, which my children also pointed out: when I'm left to my own devices, and am in control of my own time, I am capable of achieving everything I say I will. These four weeks came after  one of the most intense years I've had in a while. But more than that, the year itself came after an extensive period of struggling financially. So the four-week holiday felt like the first proper holiday I'd had in a while. 

                                                   Some of my sweet Christmas presents. 

Yes. I'm really happy that I was able to spend time with my family and some friends, and also enjoy solo time. I'm happy that I got to do things that will make 2025 easier. Rearranging my living space will impact positively on my workflow, this year. I bring a lot of schoolwork home, and my space just wasn't working for me.  This year will be different.  

To anyone reading this, I wish you a very good 2025. 

May the horrors taking place around the world come to an end, and may peace prevail. True peace.    

                              The half moon, seen from outside my flatlet, on 8 January 2025.