Looking for toffees, climbing stairs, replacing tie-die with 'sell or die' mentality, and forgiveness.

I feel like a child returning back to her parents after being sent to sit on the naughty chair. If I were a dog, my tail would be between my legs. If you were to try and look me in the eye, I probably wouldn't be able to make eye contact. I offer you my knuckles for a well-deserved rap of the ruler. Basically- I'm sorry.

Sometimes, I bump into friends at the grocery store who I have not seen in months. The usual response, (after asking how they are and not remembering the answer, as I'm too busy looking at the english toffees hiding on the bottom shelf in the check-out line) is "Where have you been?! I haven't seen you in ages!" When they fling their arms around in a scurry of bangles and perfume saying "I have been soooooooooooo busy. I haven't seen ANYONE", I generally roll my eyes and politely excuse myself from the conversation, as I pretty much hate that excuse. It's lame. And boring. At least if you are going to lie, blatantly, to my face, you could have the decency to make up a proper, and exciting, story.

At a little past 8:00pm on most evenings, when I eventually get a chance to drop in at Woolworths and buy an over-priced, ready-made meal, I find myself giving the same lame excuse, all the while throwing my arms around and diverting my eyes, explaining how busy I have been and how little time I have had to myself lately.

So, this afternoon, I find myself sitting in my favourite coffee shop on Sea Point main road, with more than 30 minutes to do with what I want. I have done three loads of laundry already, changed my sheets, been for a 7km run, done the grocery- shop for the week (no excuses needed to be made, thank god), watched my fair share of telly and had a soak in the bath to ease the weary legs. With all my chores done, the little green monster of guilt sitting on my shoulder eventually got to whisper in my ear...and here I am.

The last three months have been extreme. And yes, when I say extreme, I mean that feeling of hanging off a sheer cliff with no ropes to hang onto. I mean skiing down a ski slope at night in your underwear. I mean radical. This radicality (that's a new word. Just made it up) is directly related to the fact that I have made my way back into advertising. And not just any old agency...small, quiet and slowly getting to its feet like a Granny with arthritis. I have had my hand firmly grasped by the country's biggest advertising agency and he is taking me along for the ride. Again... extreme.

Don't get the wrong impression though. The life I was living, while working on the water project, was incredible. The amount of spare time, free time, creative time was definitely one of a kind. I absolutely adored being allowed to let my creative juices flow for a living. It was easy and it was great. But, at some point, I had to step back from the situation, remove my tie-die and remember that I was trying to build a career (one that I could look back on in 40 years and be proud of) and that juices, although tasty and extremely good for you, were not directly proportioned to money. Not that money is everything and anything... but you know what I mean...?

So, after a tiny internal toothpick snapped inside of me, I made the decision to begin the lumbering process of looking for another job. I felt like the egg timer had been ringing for quite some time and I had been ignoring it. My boiled eggs were now bouncing balls and I was hungry for something substantial. Something I could sink my teeth into. As if it were a parting gift from the creative, hippie world, the beautiful little career fairy landed on my other shoulder (it wasn't taken up by the green guilt monster that has been on my shoulder of late) and delivered a wonderful present to me...a phone call from a top- dog at the agency that I now call my own. In less than a week, I had been for two intense interviews and had accepted the job. Medical Aid. Tick. Pension fund. Tick. Parking bay. Tick. Stokvel. Tick. My own desk. Tick. Large amounts of responsibility. Tick.

So, that's where I have been for the last three months. My gladiator sandals have been exchanged for a pair of high-heels and I wear make-up all day, every day. It's not like being an accountant and having to wear black as a uniform... It's still a creative industry. And an industry that I have fallen back in love with. All the late nights and the stress pimples and the calories burnt running up and down four flights of stairs all day are all worth it. Even the amount of client- shit that we have to deal with on a minute-to-minute basis is worth it when a job gets done, the client gives you a virtual 'pat on the back' over the phone and your BD gives you a real pat on the back for a job well done. Advertising is about communication and when it's done well, communication is a powerful thing. To know that you had something to do with getting a message across to millions of people is something quite extraordinary.

As it stands, my days are unbelievably busy. Busy to the extent of sometimes not having one moment to shovel something into my mouth at lunch time (On a quiet day, I enjoy half an hour of returning emails with one hand instead of two, while eating my salad with the other during lunch). My days are busy to the extent that when I log in my time at the end of every day, I can't believe that I didn't have time to pee that day. So busy, in fact, that I have managed to subconsciously quell my thirst for writing, all in order to make it through the day alive, and in good enough shape to still make some dinner and be sociable with the iron-man before 8:30pm (my bed time). On the odd occasion (three times a week, in fact) that I make it to the gym after work, I literally and verbally congratulate myself for pushing through and finding the strength to do 40 minutes on the treadmill. I have said it before, and I will say it again...being a grown-up is really hard sometimes.

As I was taught during my beloved psychology lectures at varsity, changing one's career is one of the four main stressors that any one person has to deal with in a life time. It's a major re-adjustment- not only in routine but in thinking, feeling, reacting and in the way your body copes with a brand new world. Just as one would come through any of the other three major stressors (moving house, losing a loved one or changing your relationship status), I can finally say that I am coming through the stress of changing my life to fit that larger-than-life, eloquent, colourful guy that is advertising back into it.

It definitely hasn't been easy. There have been far too many tears and far too few moments spent writing for my liking. There have been sleepless nights and days of no appetite. But, after three months of silence, I feel that familiar surge of energy coming back... the one that tingles through my fingers as I tap away at the key-board. I feel the right side of my brain waking up. My red, velvet clad room is getting clearer and I can smell lemons again. Never fear, my lovelies....the Pocket Rambler is back once more.

All that is left to do on this wintery Sunday evening is ask for your forgiveness one more time, and to promise you that, just as I have managed to get up every morning and endure days full of stress and energy, I will find the time to write down my ramblings and send my love to all of you. All I ask in return is one thing: When you bump into me at Woolies on a cold Wednesday evening, please believe me when I say that I have been too busy to blow my nose. It's true. It's pretty disgusting, but it's true. Oh... and please don't look for the toffees when you ask me how I am. That's all.

Love and Gratitude...as always

xxx