Unsettlement

Back here to my safety zone. There should be a Nobel Prize for the one who thought of inventing blogs in the first place. Why is it called a blog, really it's a haven for me.

So yet more change, school changes. Which I should be happy about for it really is just a 5 minute walk away, more time to sleep in the morning. But it's yet another new place which will smell of disinfectant and starch coming from diligently pressed school uniforms. Ii love and hate smells, I love talcum powder smells, it is so comforting. I hate disinfectant smells, it's so clinical and hospital related. Same way as I love my Clinique Happy, it makes you happy the instant you wear it, even if it's a false sense of happiness. Now I have quite a collection of fragrances, really I could put Frank's Perfumery to shame, I also have a vast knowledge of them, what I like, what I dislike. Smells are so important. I love smelling my cats, they smell of sun. And touch is important. I dislike being touched, hugged, but then I like touching, not touching people, but touching different kinds of material, suede, leather, fur (I love fur), satin, I love touching the nice things, the comforting ones and the stimulating ones. I mean what fun is there in touching plain old cotton and plain old wood, although the smell of freshly cut wood is a nice one too. Oh and touching my cats, is so so so nice, especially when I see how much they trust me, these cats love me totally, and no it's not just because I feed them gourmet food. Cats are not selfish creatures, I have been very sick once and they didn't leave my bedside, all trying to purr me to good health. Maybe cats are like kids, it depends on how you raise them, and a lot of love normally seems to be vital in them growing up to be caring.

So come tomorrow I'll land out of nowhere at a new place. All this new, when I get irritated if somebody even moves a chair by a few millimetres. This is like a gypsy job going from one place to another. Of course it has it's pros, travelling takes some time, and that's time away to my own. I'm strange, I suppose I was born strange and haven't changed much. I am so thankful that there are not many mind reader around, they'd think I was looney or something. I'm not, it's just that thoughts have flooded my world since I could think, and yes I remember thinking and being a 4 year old.

So where does the settlement come in. Nowhere. I feel like a nomad, and at the same time, it suits me this way. No time to get close to anyone. I know I must look like a very ungrateful wrench, if people try befriending this girl, well they will be in for a hard time. Unknowingly I keep testing the waters, stretching them beyond limits, and the very nice ones still stay.... incredible stuff.

It's a Sunday, so my mum will be waiting for me for lunch. Mum and dad, another two people who love me and whom I probably could treat better. But I'm like mum, loving to a fault but not physically expressing all lovey-dovey emotions. Hugs make me cringe, kisses.... if I could I would straight away wash a kiss with soap and water, wherever the kiss has been placed, even if it's the innocent kiss from heaven.

I keep writing in this blog and watching what my cousins write. Madonna somewhere somehow the blood line is strong. I think they would understand. Miriam forever head up somewhere, Elizabeth, more grounded but still preoccupied with thinking. We all have the same bottom lines somehow, we all have grand pretty feminine names, talk about blood being thicker than water.

School

So school's in. The weather hasn't helped much, still blazing sun, but the kids have. All rushing saying hey Miss, we've missed you. They're probably the only ones who have missed me, but anyway, it's still nice. Back to doing up shoelaces, to seeing smiles of glee at them seeing something new. I suppose one could say it is rewarding. Really don't know how class teachers do it though, they're with the same kids day in day out, for six hours a day, five times a week. Have met some sassy people too, these two teachers who work as a couple, Jeez they are sooooo out, and then they think they are soooooo in. But whatever, it's an ok day today. One filled of sparkling new uniforms, new school bags, wonder how long it will be before the novelty wears off.

And I am so sleepy, when I usually can never get down to sleeping at all. I'm worried, my dad's getting just too good at The Times' crosswords, when I have always known a forever active dad. Maybe he'd love to trade places with me too, I don't know how I'd fare doing the crossword, but I'll have a go anyway.

Kids again. Sometimes I watch and think this is slavery. They sit at their desks for hours on end, and if breaktime exceeds one minute, all hell runs loose. I don't know how they feel, I'll ask them though, but I hated being a kid, hated every minute of it. Now, I wish I'd never grown up, or at least stuck around at age 16. It' s when your body is at it's best, but you don't know it. What a shame. School's started and I'm bored, I want bright lights and dark never ending nights. I am a night person, it takes till 11 am to get me fully awake, then I'm already sleepy by 1 pm. The only time I'm at my best is 10 am, just like bats, vultures and vampires. But for now, it'll have to stay this way. And all in all I cannot really complain... it'll be midterm soon.....

Figaro, mi niño, un año en el puente de arco iris, pero siempre en mi corazón

I cannot today but write about one thing which has made me slave to my thoughts and feelings. I's the 21st of September, it's a national holiday, but it also marks one year to a very sad event in my life. Figaro, my very loved kitten who actually was the first to make me a 'grandma' went into the deepest sleep one year ago today. Poor little thing, he was so sick. Now I stare at his three siblings who have survived him and wonder why was it him who had to go. So loving, used to sleep next to me all the time. Poor little one, he lived for two years, two happy years I suppose but I was always taking him to the vet for this and that. It's like life, some people are born unlucky, and it's the same with cats. My blonde baby who grew from a sweet little kitten to the most good-looking cat of the lot. Time doesn't heal, if we're lucky it makes acceptance that little bit easier. My brood went from six to five, and it will always be painful to anybody's innocent question, how many cats do you have? I was used to proudly saying six, but have had to say five all the times this question has been asked this year.

My only saving grace is that at least my baby passed away in loving hands, in warmth, God knows how much I willed him to stay but his pain was too big for that. So now he's in Rainbow Bridge, all healthy and happily running with the other cats. And I know that he won't forget me and he will forever be in my heart.

Te quiero Figaro
De mi corazón...hasta que encontremos otra vez...

Pourquoi me revellier?

Pity blogs do not carry music, or at least I don't know how to add it, because I would have added Luciano's version of this Pourquoi me revellier taken straight from Massenet's Werther. This is dramatic opera at it's best full of romance, love... and wait for it.... thoughts of suicide. Which reminds me, the first time I actually played Werther... totally wrong timing back then, but not now. It is so beautiful to see how people heal when they thought they would never heal. The human being is such a wonderfully made thing, the human heart being a really dark forest. And then you realise there really is a God, and you realise that through it all, when you thought you were at your weakest, you were actually at your strongest. You also realise that God does not lash out more than we can take, and that means you are a tower of strength. Ok maybe an emotional tower of strength, but then, if we didn't have hearts, wouldn't it be a cold damp place, a world full of robotic aliens?

Sometimes I sit and wonder and am thankful that God has given me the power to actually know music, to feel it, breathe it, live it, to the limit. Because there really is a God who actually watches me while I sleep, live and do everything. Sadness, sometimes a type of sadness hits you, a poignant sadness which almost doesn't let you breathe, but then if we didn't know this type of sadness how could we feel joy and happiness, the type of which also doesn't let you breathe?

So perhaps it's to do with the dynamics of life.... stil feeling this has to be one of the best things in life...Pourquoi me revellier?

What's happening

So I finally have my new school postings for the year and they are brilliant. I'm sad to leave Paola but it's a package thing and with Paola comes Valletta.... and that is dreadful. But I will still see Bridget and Jess and Yan so it makes it a little bit easier. I will also be able to wake up that bit later because I don't have to cross Marsa traffic anymore. Going to work will be like a breeze now, no traffic, nothing, splendid, I'll have time to put on some makeup, look decent at least. Somewhere somehow some angel was these when the postings were being distributed, I couldn't have had a better deal. No more getting up at six to find a parking space, no park and ride and walk, no parking meters, now let's see what staffs and kids are like. And I go to Tarxien again, that's nice, where kids are not just kids but my friends. It's where everyone is my friend, I could actually live there. I love that. Things are seriously looking up again. I guess I have had the best deal, maybe it's luck, well for once luck's been on my side.

I haven't decided yet where to go on what day to go but I'll figure that out soon hopefully. I'm so happy about this, it could have been so much worse. After such a bit stretch of holidays it will take some time getting used to waking up at half seven, but half seven isn't all that bad. This is going to be a year of change, hopefully for the better. My sixth sense tells me a whole lot of change is in, I am scared of change but it will be for the better, no, for the best. So... we'll see, things aren't at all bad right now.

Strange

I feel strange in new situations, they scare me. No matter how much people try and go out of their way to make me welcome, I still feel like an alien. On my own, that's no problem at all, it's so easy to be on your own. So today was psychologist-take-care-of-your-inner-being thing. Load of crap, this group therapy thing. People from all walks of life thrown together and expected to get along. Thing is they all do, except for me. I cannot get along and make people my buddies when there is so little in common. And maybe I don't want to get along with them in the first place. I'm this strange kind of being, I keep aloof, and make people keep their distance. Poor them, they try so hard. And if anybody is reading this, no I am not like Dr. Joseph Chetcuti, I might be his other half, but I am an obtrusive Ms. Chetcuti. The male of this Chetcuti duo couldn't have been more different than it is. So any of you people out there who will tell me again... but you're twins.... had better think twice because I am up to my everything in exasperation. Maybe he's the better half and maybe he isn't, he sure does make friends very easily though. Not my scene at all. I am just now happy to look at my new OPI Russian Collection. I have all the bottles standing like soldiers so I can just look at them and have this buzz.

So I'm strange, can't do anything about it, it's too late now.

Comfortable vs not

So the holidays are coming to an end... at an extremely fat pace too. I remember in July they seemed to stretch on and on. Not now, now I am counting the last few days. I wonder how I'll get used to routine again. I hate routine, it makes you feel as if you're in boot camp, and boot camp would be one place where I would seriously consider killing people. Although some people really do need boot camps to learn that there is something beyond themselves in the human race. Pity we don't do boot camps in Malta, I'd have quite a few people I'd recommend as 'guests'. Maybe they would learn not to be so selfish and not to disguise their selfishness as love.

Anyway, have just been to my beauty therapist and lo and behold I feel like a plucked chicken. Waxing hurts, I wonder in this day and age how nobody has come up with a better solution, something like a painless waxing. Sure there's always the faithful laser... which doesn't work, and this is first hand experience. The thing is I like getting an eyebrow wax, it is totally painless, but not a leg one. Whoever invented this must be the same guy who invented high heels... yes it looks nice and sexy but God it kills you. It may be the same one who invented bras too, although maybe he could give a plausible reason for that. Nice things are painful then... no jewellery is not painful, make up isn't either and a beautiful chocolate cake has never been known to hurt anybody either. But then the guy who invented chocolate cake was probably extremely gentle to begin with, the one with the heels must have been some sadist wanting to see women reel. Yeah right, I don't give him that much satisfaction, plenty of nice looking shoes without the kill, but once in a while... well the guy wins. And the killer heel, waxing guy must be the same as the pantyhose guy, who the fuck ever wanted to wear pantyhose??? Again... they look good, but uncomfortable and you have to watch it or you'll snag it and then out comes a brand new pair out of your handbag. Handbags, it's the nice guy who invented them, the one who understood that pushing a bag beyond it's limits is important to women, we need to have half the house in there, it's comforting knowing that.

Yes alas I am 34 and I should be contemplating whether to wear red of black killer pumps. But I am still in Hello Kitty world, so that probably lowers my intellectual age to 6. And it's true, the world would be much easier if everything could be explained to us like we were 6 year olds. Although you sometimes get very sassy 6 year olds these days.

And while Freud comes up with complicated things such as the phallic stage, the anal retentive stage, the transference.... who cares? Give me a good foundation, a waterproof eyeliner, lipliner and lipstick, a good pair of earrings.... Mr. Freud that's what we want. And if I may.... I prefer Karl to Sigmund... that's Jung of course. Probably Mr Freud would have a psychological answer to all this, but he's not here for the asking.

WHY

Why is it when someone famous dies I spend a whole day crying like an idiot? Ok so Pavarotti tears are allowed, but there were Saddam tears too. And strangely enough no Pope tears. It just makes me think and wonder what their family is going through and that makes me cry. I think of Alice, Luciano's daughter. still so small yet an orphan now. And that makes me cry. I watch my cats sleeping, running around the house and think well maybe they won't be here for long. So I cry. It doesn't make sense, but I still cry? Why, why do I act like some menopausal woman, and no it's not even PMS? Why is everything looking so poignant, and I try to hold the tears for fear of people thinking I'm mad, but I cannot. So I just cry my way through the whole day. Depressed.... probably, but everyone gets depressed once in a while and it's ok. This does not feel ok, and I keep wondering when the next death is going to hit me like this again. Death, I cannot find closure on the subject. It's just not fair on the ones who stay. They tell you to get over it, not to sit and mope, but it's like a hellish thing this crying. And whoever said having a good sob makes you feel better afterwards... wrong, it doesn't. It doesn't get anybody get so feeling better is pointless. And I'm in for some more crying, it's Figaro's anniversary when he passed on to Rainbow Bridge... can never forget that.

I just don't know, it's a big question this... WHY?

Addio .... Luciano

The world has woken up to a sad day today, at least I have. I was late, got into the car, put my car radio on and just couldn't believe what I was listening to.... passed away at his Modena home early this morning, he will be remembered for a giant of opera. That could only mean one thing... Pavarotti... dead? This man larger than life who sealed my love for opera? I remember, I had this CD, where there was a certain Turiddu.... sung by this powerful voice full of anxious passion, I just got hooked on it, it was a Luciano Pavarotti in his earliest days, even then one tenor who could touch all the high C's so effortlessly. Sometimes tenors have a funny way of preparing themselves for high notes, they grunt in anticipation. Not this one, the big giant could just hit the note and keep it, totally in tune. Amazing. For so much time, this man for me was opera himself. Standing at a heavy weight, nobody cared he was obese, we all cared about his passion which oozed out of every note.

It makes me sad to see that such a big man, with an even bigger personality has had to endure the circle of life too. Life doesn't care that it's an opera singer like that, life and death don't do priviledges. So here I am raising the black flag in my heart.... addio Luciano.

Here I am sipping Ovaltine (that really sounds like an old lady's drink but anyway) and praying to Hypnos to cast his spell on me. Now I like Gods, Greek, Roman, they're all gods, but hey Hypnos would you mind giving me a call more often please?
I'm also pissed off because I've snagged a nail and you wouldn't believe how hard it is to find an emergency nail technician. it's impossible, so I'll just go back to mine tomorrow. This nail business seems to have taken like fireworks, i think getting hold of the Archbishop is actually easier than a nail technician.

It;s also the holiday countdown now. I think i've got used to waking up to yet another holiday so I'm not looking exactly forward to it. We'll see.

So que tal a todos....

AnnMarie