Cindy van Wyk is a writer and lifestyle blogger from Windhoek, Namibia. She launched her blog in Feburary 2016 and has been sharing her thoughts, journeys and loves with the internet at large since then. When designing her logo and layout, I aimed to create something that encapsulated both the boldness and delicacy that infuses Cindy’s work, and what she puts out into the world — the balance and contrast and, at the end of the day, the multitudes that exist within any woman and the way she occupies her space.
A FEW WORDS FROM CINDY —
“Working with Dan on my blog’s revamp was an incredible experience – she was professional, friendly and helpful every step of the way. From the mood board she created for my brand to my logo, her eye is impeccable and she worked so well with my vision. I don’t think I’ll be able to work with anyone else again, her work is truly amazing.”
sugaryoblivion.com | @sugaryoblivion
For my thirtieth birthday, I got unemployment, several metric fuck tons of snow, and chilblains.
I am most upset about the chilblains, which I have never had before but now, since ageing into this new decade, have apparently become susceptible to. For the uninitiated, chilblains are what happens when you muck around in the icy white stuff for too long, the feeling goes out of your toes for several hours and then promptly returns, with profound aches and itchiness that will linger for a week or so. While being an affliction that affects any old body with no sense of real self-preservation, chilblains sounds like something that happens to old people only. I’m still in shock.
I’ve tried, not extensively but certainly enough, to buy into the ‘big three oh’ mood. There’s something I like about the mix of anxiety and elation that surrounds this particular birthday, something unstoppably human about our response to this stage of ageing. However, given the irreverence with which I have approached other birthday milestones (I hit the town on my own for my eighteenth, with no memory as to why or how that happened), it comes as no surprise that turning thirty has left me ambivalent, at worst, and introspective, at best.
Dreaming of the kind of Spring that doesn’t try to freeze, and then eat, you.
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The first and most important rule of any con is to always maintain the line. The one between the real world and the pack of lies you tell to pull the wool over that world’s eyes. If you don’t, you get caught.
By the time a team breaks down the door to Cy’s cubby and hauls him out of bed and into cuffs, he’s broken that rule a hundred times over. He’s lost count of how often the line blurred, how he found himself believing the fabrications that make up his identity here in the shadowy, brutal world where rebellions are fostered.
The small unit he’s called home for months feels packed to capacity and claustrophobia gnaws at Cy’s insides while he watches Zeb, the team leader, rifle through his belongings. When he pulls out a touchpad that comes to life and reveals the warning Cy coded into the system to prevent exactly what was happening, the man’s stony mask slips and reveals a world of betrayal that Cy realises is the inevitable outcome of any camaraderie they had once shared. When you don’t maintain your line, people get hurt.
Someone’s com crackles with static, and then a voice.
“The captain’s a few minutes away.”
It’s Zeb who shifts, speaks into the small black square affixed to his jacket. “We’re ready.”
Happy new year to my five readers!
A while back, in conversation with my brother, he told me that 2018 is the year of no expectations. It’s not hard to relate to the sentiment — at the beginning of every one of the last few years, I optimistically declared that they would all finally be the years when things settled and stopped feeling like such a mess. After being consistently proven wrong, having no expectations seems like the healthiest way to enter into a year that nobody, least of all me, can predict. (This great take on the proverbial annual horoscope is scarily accurate, however.)
Along with this approach comes a new way of thinking about resolutions. I’ve never had any firm new year’s resolutions, so to speak of, but I did always enter into the year with notions and intentions of eating well, exercising more and being more financially responsible and stable. Then there were promises to write and explore creativity, positive, and so on and so forth. They’ve never really stuck though, and I realise that to me, these intentions and notions have more to do with lifestyle, and less with an achievable goal you set for a year. Despite entering the year with zero expectations, I still want to set myself some goals that, when the end of the year rolls around (if we even make it that far, let’s be real), I can say I’ve done. My new year’s resolutions are things I want to do in 2018, and only 2018.