My candle

I have this Christmas candle by Glade. It's a really Christmassy candle and smells of apple and spice. Brilliant on the olfactory nerves. It's the kind where you suddenly expect to look out the window and see snowflakes. Trouble is, there are no snowflakes in Malta, so I had to fix the sticky kind to my window. It's not the same, but it's got to work. I also keep thinking of pictures. I cannot draw to save my life, but I can picture things in my mind, things which would make an artist toil to achieve. There is a small child looking out the window, with a chiaro scuro effect. It's dark inside, but it brightens up out there. It's like from gloom to gay, from doom to day. No I am not obsessed, I am not having delusional thoughts, I am not schizoid or psychotic,or hearing voices, just very much into art. And art allows us to interpret pictures of this kind. Of course it depends how you perceive the pictures. What one perceives as such, another will perceive as something else. But it is all so peaceful. It is all so calm, but not cool, nor collected. It's calm, and warm, but still not collected. I wonder why. Maybe I know why. And it's not my fault. Not even my parents' fault this time. If I were a whore with multiple arrests on my shoulder it would be easier then being me, not a whore and without arrests. If I wanted to visit Jack the Ripper in jail, it could be arranged. Even paying a visit to the Pope would be easier to arrange. I can only console myself with the knowledge that it's not my fault, that however hard it is I am going to knock on all doors and pull all strings. It's not a question of me being broody. Hell no. It's just that sometimes we cannot help but love. We love with our hypothalamus and we have no control over that. The human brain is a complex organ to deal with, all the more so when we're dealing with something over which we have no control. So the Glade candle will have to do. For now.

Santas

I'm back. The days before Christmas are lovely in that shops are open on a Sunday. So for all of us who have this shopping addiction, that's a very good thing. I've bought 2 pairs of shoes which I didn't need but wanted. Shopping for things you actually need isn't much fun, it's the shopping for the things you don''t need which makes it such a remarkable past time. I know there's so much talk about the credit crunch and people feeling the pinch, but Christmas wouldn't be Christmas without the shopping. I also got stopped a few times by people saying they saw me in diapers yesterday on OneTV. That means I'm going to kill my brother. Me in diapers? For God's sake, and they weren't even designer ones. Oh no, it's not happening. People may think I was cute, but me in diapers is not on. Period.

So hopefully the Christmas cheer will start soon. I hope so. Christmas is magic. There is no Christmas without presents, and no Christmas without little people. For once, I really wish I could pull a female Santa, but that's not going to be easy. Because while male Santas are expected to have the bulge, there is no way on earth (Netherlands included) I could pull a female Santa fighting the battle of the bulge. But seeing we don't have to go through chimneys, perhaps I could get away with just ringing on the front door. Would love that. I'd just look and look for the ones left alone, the ones who will be having a solitary Christmas, and the ones with a sad look in their eyes. There are so many of those when you start thinking seriously about it. But I cannot even do that. It's frustrating when you find yourself so close and yet so far. Worse still, it's sad. We do not choose whom we love, that's dear old Freud who'd have a field day today and be very rich thanks to me. And sometimes we love those who perhaps do not deserve to be loved, but paradoxically we love them more. There is also a reason for everything we do, although some people can never see that. The equation goes something like ... making somebody happy = making me happy. In some way, it is selfish, but far better than making somebody unhappy.

Another thing which makes me fume. Some things, I want to keep to myself. I have all the right to. If I were challenged in the reproduction area, then perhaps I'd want to keep that to myself. If I were challenged in the mental area, perhaps I'd want to keep that to myself also. I could never keep me and the battle of the bulge secret for obvious reasons. And here is where and why little people are the best in the world. They see though the bulge, through the reproductive system and all of that. It is us adults who are warping the little people's mind. For people like me, walking with little people is a liberating experience. Because for these little people, the extra kilograms do not carry much weight. They see right through it, it doesn't affect them, they are still swinging on my arm and trying to hug me although their arms will never go completely around me. And that is something I cannot control. I am not about to push away these little people. Because if they are able to see past all of this, then I can only thank them for the lesson they have taught me. And yes, I love them. All.

Eavesdropping

It is yet again through my experience (and no I'm not ancient), that I know that people love to know what's going on with other people. Just open a small crevice in a window and show what's happening with the neighbour, and there you go, you get full attention. It's happened on Nies ta' Veru, it's happened on Arani Issa, and it's still happening on Arani Issa. Because people love to spy, eavesdrop. And this in turn make great TV viewership. Perhaps it's a Maltese addiction, but my guess is we're not very different from the whole world. It's easier for us because we can relate faster to whoever is in the spotlight... the cousin of the brother of the grandma of this and that. It's a long shot, but that is exactly what happens. People do not stop me in the street for nothing. Sure it's always an 'ghid lil huk l-avukat prosit'. As if they had to define my brother being the lawyer, I only have one brother anyway. And the 'prosit tal-programm' means, oh boy we had a lovely time watching what's happening to other people, you satisfied our curiosity.. oh and that what's her name has a cousin who lives close by. What and how do I respond to that? Usually by saying nothing, just nodding and wishing people wouldn't waste my time. Don't get me wrong, I am not a snob, I love colourful people, people from all walks of life. They are far more interesting than someone wearing a tie, or high heels and carrying a briefcase. For one, they are far more honest. They do not hide the fact that you have satisfied their curiosity. White collar workers are more deviant. They ask the same thing, rephrasing it so that it sounds more chic. Chic? It's the same, but counting the massive number of earrings on one woman is far more entertaining than having an Armani/Gucci pair of sunglasses at your face. Because of course, the snobby ones cannot even look at you in the face, they hate you looking at them in the face, so they wear the glasses. The 'normal' people... well they are at least so honest about it. No sunglasses there, instead you'll be looking at heavily smudged mascara and garish lipstick. But it's the same. Just more entertaining. I would also love to tell them that perhaps they should address some of the 'prosit' to me, seeing that I am responsible for most of the workload a TV programme like that needs. But I don't want to be famous. I want to be able to walk down Republic Street freely. The last time I walked down the same street with my brother was a nightmare. It took us two solid hours to get through because people kept stopping him. How boring. And now Christmas is coming, it'll be another nightmare to Christmas shop with him. Don't get me wrong, I love shopping, and I'm a hard shopper, but shopping is when you buy things not when you keep stopping every few feet because someone wants to talk to you.

Anyway, I have to cut this short, I'm going shopping again. Will be back.

The L-Word

It's back to my old faithful blog. It's becoming quite old, poor blog, but it's the best therapy of all. It's just as good as 10 years spent on the couch. Problem is, a shrink would hold his tongue and not inform anybody of what you've been telling him. As it is, my data-protection-act rubbish is not being very respected either. Another thing my blog is good for, and that is letting off steam. What I say here is read, I know that, and I don't care a hoot. I just hope that whoever reads it can learn something, because more often then not, they're people with no blood running in their veins. I keep thinking of the Wizard of Oz. Now I am not exactly keen on that, but I remember the Tin Man who summed it up all so neatly in his statement ... For once I had brains, and a heart also, and having tried them both, I would much rather have a heart. Brilliant words which have stuck to me like a good dream.

I am fed up by the bureaucracy which doesn't work. I have had more than enough of the bull*&^% of people who say they have studied this and that and got a degree in this and that. I too have degrees, but degrees do not make a good or a bad person. They don't even make them intelligent people at that. Now if someone got a degree in compassion and empathy, I would be all for them. But it seems nobody is interested in that. The real truth is that the l-word does not come from any College or University. Not even from Harvard. Or Yale. I can safely say from experience, (yes it's making me sound ancient but who cares), the human race could learn so much from animals. The minute some kind of pain is inflicted on you... that's the minute everybody flies out the door. It's that simple. The world doesn't wait for you to get a grip, you just have to get your grip on your own.

When did love stop being a good thing and start being nasty? Whenever was love a sure thing to throw someone in jail? What's this happening? Why am I made to feel guilty because I love someone or something? Isn't love the purest thing that can be found on the planet? Why ever was I taught that love was a virtue? Why are so many songs written about love, if love is something bad? It's just not fair. I know the world's not fair, but this is becoming outrageous. And it takes a lot of patience not to react. I should be able to kick someone's ass, but I cannot. I am not a violent person anyway. So I just act it out in my mind, which is the next best possible thing. I am not sure I have the strength to fight back. Life has exhausted me of a lot of that. I don't want to fight. I just want what is the best for little people. And no, I am not a hateful girl.

But with me there is one cardinal rule. Do not dig up my past because I will not tolerate it. Do not try and shove me around and say I deserve to be hanged, because dear God, I will react. Dragging up someone's painful past will get you nowhere. Because that is where I will put the last inch of strength I have. It is only us who have known real suffering who can use the l-word liberally. We mean it, a 100%. Because it is always the heavily wounded who can love as in real love.

H is for Holistic

H can stand for so many things, but right now I am thinking about the holistic approach. This is another not-my-fault-thing. When both your parents happen to be teachers (and it's not always such a good idea), you tend to fall right into the holistic approach trap, and then yes, that is a swell idea. Dad has always gone for holism with us, during the 40+ year he spent at school. It really works. Incidentally, dad is one person who has never grown up either. I have never heard him uttering that he's off to work. Never. Rather, he's always said, he's off to school, like a diligent school-boy. It's probably why he has never grown up, loves life... and children. He is a born educator, and that will never change. Once a teacher... always a teacher. If only the philosophy of education was geared towards finding a love for living and learning (not necessarily in that order). All through my 35 years plus the 7 months spent in total seclusion with my brother in my mother's womb, life has knocked me up quite a bit. But perhaps once you have an inherent passion for love, relationships, and a reverence for life, somehow you'll make it. I have made it, when everybody else was throwing in the towel in exasperation. How, I haven't a clue. But having good role models may have a say in that. Looking back at my childhood, it would have probably been a very good idea to stay in childhood where everything was so nice, when I got cuddled, when dad told me I was his little princess. I still am a princess to him,the only thing which has changed is that I'm ahem not very little anymore. I suppose I could go to Arani Issa and have all the works done, but oh no there's no way I'll put myself into such suffering, Liposuction, as the word suggests, sucks. Big time. It is a painful business. True it turns people into models overnight, but oh God the pain. I've been there, done that, will never do that again.

Back to holism. It would be such a wonderful thing if we threw all our Math logbooks away, concentrated on the beauty of art and literature, and started to feel. We all have feelings, my problem is that I cannot understand why noble feelings are being perceived as wrong. I have given up on the understanding, because somewhere somehow, my grey matter cannot explain it. We have eliminated the rod, well done for that. But in doing so we have also eliminated the power of the touch, of human contact, of humane contact. We suddenly are expected to become robotic creatures without a scrap of emotion. Sorry, it's not on, it's not me, and I cannot learn this no matter how hard I try. I have worked in the 'feeling' world for too long. Opera, oratorios, soundtracks... they all provide a good space for emotions. And if only we could somehow include that into the teaching and the learning, then that would make sure that the next generation would finally have learned something good, for good.

Shoes, diamonds, and magic

I have been doing one of my favourite things in the world... shopping. Yes I am a shopaholic, one of the text book kind of. And I've done quite well today too. The problem with me is that I get to start working at the unearthly hour of 8.30 am, and that doesn't leave me with much choice of what to wear. I can barely kick myself out of bed by half seven, and even then it's so many coffees. I suck at going to sleep, and then I suck at being able to get up. It's always been hard this getting up thing. When I lived with my mum it was worse, she'd try and force me to get up by 7. 7 am!! Who in the world can expect to get up at such a time and function? Not me. I am not a day person, but come 10pm I suddenly have the energy of a bull. That is a severe problem, because half of the world are getting ready to sleep when for me it just feels as if I've got up. Crazy crazy world. We should have the leisure of choosing which time we work, play, and sleep. But I am not the Prime Minister of the big blue marble (not yet), so I have to follow directions.

Anyhow, still deliberating on the I do/ I don't thing. There it is, another thing I'm not good at, that is taking decisions. I keep going over the what if's several thousand of times a day. Because it means change, and change is scary. Change is the devil we don't know. But I am tired of the funny looks I get when I never mention a 'boyfriend' instead of a 'husband'. There is also the fear factor of the past coming back down on me with a vengeance. It really shouldn't, and statistically it definitely shouldn't. But what if? So many questions. And so many girls sail right through them, they probably never even stop to ask themselves because wearing a nice (that's up for interpretation) dress and being princess (that's also up for interpretation) for a day is something they've been dreaming of all along. What did I dream of? Diamonds and shoes. That's it. I own more than 500 pairs of shoes, and well, as for the diamonds, I'm not getting one everyday, but it's enough for me.

So now I'm staring at the bought goods. The problem is, I have no space to put them away. My spare bedroom/ walk-in closet is full enough as it is. And no matter how many shoes I buy, I still keep thinking of the glass crystal slipper which I can never find outside of fairy tales. But then fairy tales are just the mind's safety valve which convinces me that somewhere out there, the magic is still there. I just have to find my way to it.

Should I? Shouldn't I?

There are some things in a girl's life that cause sensation. It doesn't mean that these same things cause the same degree of sensation in all girls' lives. It usually happens at the age of 25. That means I'm 10 years late already. It is also a time when 25 year old 'virgins' start buying wedding magazines as if they were the only thing in the whole world. It hasn't happened that way for me. At 25, i was way too busy doing something else. Bridal magazines have never, and will never turn me on. Don't know why, but dressing up in pure white just isn't sexy at all. It also does nothing for us who have pale white skin. And at 35, I am way past it. It's funny how things happen in life; the way tragedy gives way to healing, I didn't expect I would be good at that. But I've done it too. And when you've faced the worst in life and yet have bounced back somehow, then some things appear trivial. I was never dreaming of wearing a white lacy dress as a young girl. So many girls already had their life planned out, boyfriend, fiance`, husband, 2 kids. I've missed out on that. Perhaps it's my choice of men, and the way things progressed. But I've always run a mile from the wedding thing. I think I'm doing everything in reverse. Usually people save up to buy a house, then get married and continue saving up for their home. Not with me. It's the exact opposite, now, when I have everything I want, well do I? Don't I? Yes I've been proposed to... for the umpteenth time. And for once, it seems like the rational thing to do. For the very first time, I'm thinking rationally. And do I do it in a church, in a registry office? No idea. I am not very keen on a white dress, white is so unforgiving, black is so much easier to handle. But could I pull getting married in black? Is that bad luck or something? And how the hell does one go about organising a wedding anyway? I haven't a clue. Will getting married earn me automatic respect? Will all the sitting-pretty jokes dwindle to nothing? Will having a ring on my finger change things somehow? I guess not. Before anybody gets excited about the idea, I'm still deliberating, and no there will be no babies. At 35 I'll be risking too much. Babies have never happened, and there must be a reason for that. I could come up with a reason instantly, but let's say that anything I post on the world wide web automatically gets read by I don't know whom. No, it's not because I don't like children. I love children, most times, children are what makes my day. So no, I am not allergic to any child. If I could I would have a whole dozen. Because it's when you see the world through a child's eyes that magic is created. Will I do, or don't?

Boundaries

I seem to have a problem with boundaries. I never know when or where the start sign is, worse still, I cannot fathom out where the finish line is. I do try. Really I do. I am actually grateful that some people take time out to show me how. If it weren't for these people I'd probably go overboard. But it's still hard. Perhaps being brought up around a physically disabled person from the word go is quite responsible. We weren't angel kids, but not so bad either. Probably very active, and yet we always understood a silent code of, a disabled person comes first. We would gladly give up watching any cartoon if it meant that that person could watch something he liked. Because he couldn't move, he couldn't go anywhere, we could. And as mischievous as us twins were, we never ever pushed it. We understood. And so have we continued to understand those who are lacking something. Mum and dad made their mistakes, but in all honesty they weren't big ones either. And perhaps you really cannot blame a 24 year old mum and dad suddenly having unexpected twins hurled at them. They still think it's the best thing that ever happened to them. I do too, being a twin makes life so much easier. You always have a playmate/squabble mate. True you never ever have a birthday to call your very own, but that is such a small price to pay. Perhaps that is what has made growing into adulthood something very difficult. We automatically put someone else first, it's not our fault, perhaps twins are made of such stuff. Ok so am totally pleased to have a good-looking twin, but the real pleasure comes out of being sure you have a twin with a colossal heart. And all this music stuff, have worked in orchestras for so long, it's impossible for emotion not to get to you. Apologies but we are twins who let our heart rule. We try thinking it out laterally, or parallelled, but it's difficult. We cannot so much as kill ants, because we think the ant might have a family and if we kill one, well that could be the breadwinner. And what applies to ants also applies to little people. One wrong word could have disastrous consequences on little people. One good word, one smile, that is the best motivation. I used to think that all things done with good intent were good, things done with malignant intent were bad. But it seems there is such a fine line between them. When does something stop being good and start being bad? I don't know. But I understand that foresight is maybe the best thing of all. I'll try my best. The last thing I want to do is hurt little people. It's just too sad that human contact has flown out of the window.

Crimes?

Physically I feel a wreck, it's yet another cold. I wonder why I can never ever resist this common cold bug, but then is must be common otherwise it wouldn't be named as such. Why are kids with the common cold sent to school, it's becoming a merry-go-round of the cold bug. But apart from that, i think I'm ok. Emotionally it's like one big roller-coaster, but it's my fault because I can never decide. And perhaps not entirely my fault because I am constantly hearing the 'you will never make it' which has been with me since childhood. Why shouldn't I make it, if I've made it well enough in all other spheres? The thing is we carry childhood onto adulthood, and it never actually changes. For all mums out there... be careful with your kids, you don't have to agree with them, but you can at least respect their opinion, and they don't have to be Einstein's to prove themselves. That's the catch in this, proving abilities in a lot of circles has proved to be quite easy. Not when it comes to the sphere of life. Because I am way too kind, because I am way too trusting, because I love too much. But hey mum and dad, weren't you the two who taught me all that? Where does it stop, and why should it stop anyway? I was once a kid, and most kids put their parents as role models. So how do you expect me to suddenly become somebody else? No I don't know where the kindness and love stops, because they shouldn't stop anyway. I'd rather regret having tried to love than regret not having loved. Love and kindness should be applauded and not hurled straight in your face during an argument. Yes, if love is a crime, then I'm guilty. If kindness is a crime, go ahead and give me the electric chair. And if listening to someone, no matter how small, is a bad thing to do, then I guess I deserve a life sentence. And mum and dad... it's all your fault.

Little man

I am 35 years old. That probably makes me eligible for middle age. I have a nice home, a good boyfriend. I also have no gray hairs yet, and no children to date. But that may change very soon and I'll be a woman with responsibilities. It's sounding all so grown up, yet I still feel 16 inside. I can never take the control role with children. But I can take the friendship one without problems. My life has changed so much, it's constantly changing, and for once I can understand. It's so true, we never know why shit happens, and sometimes what looks so bad at first, turns out to be so beautiful. All of the asking why did this or that happen to me fades into oblivion, and a clear answer comes available. I cannot save the world, though I know I have tried so hard. But perhaps I can save people around me, and for the first time in my life I actually think I can do it. It' scary as all new things are. But sometimes, (or most times), a little love goes a long way. Most times, I never see the positive side of life. I have a profession which I love, a good boyfriend, a nice home, lots of pets to love...but something's missing. And what is even stranger is that I never missed this something until it came to me. Quite creepy, but so beautiful. Now I understand why it all happened the way it did. It had to because, God, or fate or destiny had to throw me into this scene for me to understand. Now I do. A university degree wasn't necessary for me to learn the hows and whys. Just a little bit of love, which goes a long way. Goodnight little man.

It's on

Today is almost over. And thank God for it too. It's been such a hard day, Ive spent all morning thinking about the afternoon. And the afternoon is over too. I am risking it and saying that perhaps I've cut a good impression. I actually thought it was going to be impossible... but sometimes maybe there is that God who intervenes when He knows your intentions are good. Mine are. If there is just one thing of which I am sure, than it is just that. It's a long and winding battle, but it's started at last. We are so close and yet so far. Why I feel so overprotective over someone who isn't related to me by blood, tissue, or scars is beyond me. But I have to try. Some people think I am losing my mind. But that's ok, as long as I don't lose my heart. Why fate allows me to bump into people like that, I have no idea. My dad asks that, I have no answer. But I have always been brought up to fight and stand up for those less lucky, so perhaps he should really take a good look inside of himself. In these days when communication has become so easy, I have no way to contact my little man. I can just look at the starry sky and hope that at least one star will deliver my message. No, it is not a crime to talk to kids. That much people understand. It isn't even wrong to take time to listen to them, nor is it wrong to hug them. Hugging is no abuse. Thinking about them, wondering if they are safe and sound isn't wrong either. And loving them to bits is just part of a natural process, at least of my process anyway. It's on now, and it's really now or never. I just have to keep believing that the dreams of children once lost, will be found.

The magic wand

Sometimes I feel it's all useless. Some other times, although these times are few, I keep on hoping. My intentions are good and I honestly mean very very well, but the system (f*&^ the system) doesn't see that at all. It makes me so angry, I could hit someone representing the system. But I cannot do that or I will lose the battle. I am fighting a child's battle. I expected it wouldn't be easy, but this is getting downright impossible. I am now almost being reprimanded for talking to a child. What's this? Of course I talk to a child, because they have feelings too. And of course I talk to a child, that is my job. It is not my fault if a child takes to me, although I have to admit that I love this. But since when loving an unloved child got to be a crime? And the one who decides the best for the child.... shouldn't he/she at least know the child? Why don't we let children decide for themselves, how can a child longing for a home to call his own be in default? I have a nasty feeling I now where this is going to lead to. Poor old childless me, has to find a child to call my own. But if that were true wouldn't I choose the most brilliant of kids? Why would I choose someone who has been classified as having challenging behaviour? And where did the challenging behaviour come from? The real thing is, I did not get to choose the child, he chose me. And it makes him happy. So please God just insert Your good self into whoever's mind so he/she may see the situation as it really is. I am ready to change my entire life. Because tears should not be an everyday thing in a child's life. I may not succeed, if I don't it will be a blow, but I will have tried my best. And once the six years are up, I am going to look this child up anyhow. If only I could wave a magic wand, as we do in Arani Issa. That is so easy in comparison. I just need a more sophisticated wand.

The beginning....

I'm feeling terribly terribly pleased with myself. I finally let God, and God's done a very good job at it. One hurdle is over. The worst of them hurdles is over. Thankfully for me. This is another sign. Sometimes I stop to wonder if I am doing the right thing. But I think I am, and I am counting on God to give me a sign, some sign, even if it's another butterfly. Will I be able to carry it all out? So many questions, and so many of them unanswered. But I'm still going to give it my best shot. It's got to be a merry christmas, not just for the world, not just for me, but it's got to be the first very merry christmas for the little one. Somehow.

Letting go?

It's back to blog again. Sounds something like a B&B. But it isn't. I couldn't even cook breakfast for a mouse as it is. Which next to a piano concerto should be easy, buy isn't. I have taken after dad's side of the family, all brilliant people who somehow do not know how to do any chore whatsoever. I can't either, all the more so because if I say that, then it gets ready by someone else. It's a family thing, and I've inherited it in my genes, so it's not my fault! So there. I guess I am the laziest homemaker there ever has been, I am just not very domesticated. I don't care if my plates are of fine bone china or from Tal-Lira, what interests me is what's on them anyway. And most goodies do not come on a plate anyway, they come all wrapped up in hard-to-tear plastic. As if that is going to stop me from opening it anyway, if it promises to have chocolate inside.

I'm thinking about my life and heritage as it is today. There have been times where I loved being me, other times when I hated being me and would have been happier being anybody, just not me. Then there's middle age, which seems to be creeping up on me. I am supposed to have all grown up, but I haven't. Except for one thing. I'd just thought it happened to older people, but seems I'm old enough. Every inch of growing up has been so hard, so I thought I'd sail right through my 30s, since 30 seemed to be a grand old age anyway. Not so. I have still not learnt the ropes of decision making. I can never decide, all I know is I want this and that. But now I've been hit with the child-bug. I have been asking myself why, how, what, and what the $**%? Thought I was so cool, I would never be the one to push babies in prams, or to hold screaming little kids during tantrums. Because that was always for older people. And anyway, what the hell did I know about kids? Nothing. Almost 4 years into my teaching post, I realise that things have changed and that the things have changed me a lot. I used to cringe if anybody so much as asked me to hold a baby for her. It's so different now. I tie up so many shoelaces a day, I plait so many hairstyles which have lost their elastic band, I pick up so many kids who have fallen, I will gladly clean up the mess and put a grand elastoplast on cuts, nicks and bruises. (somehow elastoplast is like a trophy for kids, and stops the crying), those are the easy bits. Then there's the more difficult. Like what to do if someone decides he's going to call you mummy, and asks you if you have kids, to which I reply in the negative, to which the child will be so eager and automatically think then he can come home to you. I have no solution for that. It would take an emotional elastoplast, but alas those cannot be bought. The only thing which soothes such a child is human contact, but then again teachers are scared of touching kids because they could be held for child abuse. That much is true. But if someone is going to report that I have hugged a child, wiped away some tears, and caressed his tear stricken face, then go ahead and do it. If that is child abuse, then I really don't care. Drag me to the courts, I don't care either. Cite data protection act something, I don't give a hoot either. Some kids never get human contact, and that is abuse. I can say I had a good childhood, but was always wondering where I came from. I resembled nobody, still do. And I have a twin for Christ's sake who looks nothing like me either. There was a time when I secretly thought I must have been adopted, but the twin thing stops that short. So there was me in a normal family unit, and still feeling so not in the unit. Imagine what a child who knows he has been abandoned thinks in his little mind. Isn't that the worst form of child abuse? There was also a time when I thought that being childless was fine because no child would want me as his mother. God how wrong I was on that one. It so happens that sometimes the best judging comes from children. There is a child out there who pleads with me to take him home. And although I am doing everything possible to at least be able to visit him, take him out... I am not the natural mother anyway. Why do laws have to make it so difficult. It's so easy to dump your baby wherever, yet it is so difficult to lift that baby out of the dumps. I am not a very good God lover sometimes, yet I want my chance too. Perhaps it is out of selfishness on my own part, but if it makes one child happy and not give up on his future, then isn't my selfishness somehow forgiven? I don't know. Will soon know. For now I'm letting go, and letting God.

My letter to the little one

My dear little one,

I have been thinking of you all day long. I hope you have had enough to eat, I hope you have found clean water to shower in and clean clothes to put on. I also hope you haven't found some other kid running in the street who thinks it's a lot of fun to call you ugly and a bastard. It makes my blood boil to think you could have had to face that again and I am just 5 minutes away, yet so helpless. I hope you've had a good day today, and are now sleeping in the land of wishes which you like so much. I know all about your one wish because you have told me so. And although I don't look like a fairy, well I'm still going to try and wave the magic somehow. I know you like wishing on a star, and trying to believe, that's what you sing all day long. You're not even aware of that, but I am. And it is no coincidence that that is what you sing ad nauseum. I am too wishing on a star. And also trying to believe I can make it for you. I want you to have the best of everything. It's about time I wiped away your tears for the last time and made your wish come true. Your wish is also mine. But you have been promised so many things and nobody has ever delivered. How are you able to trust me so much? I am just another adult, like all the other ones who have let you down. Of course I promised I will never ever let you down, but I wonder how your fighting spirit keeps believing that I will make it all right for you. I am doing my very best, it's not easy little one. I swear to God that I mean well, and that I will let nobody or nothing harm you anymore. It's high time you smiled for good. But authorities are such assholes. Ok assholes is a word I shouldn't say in front of you, I know that, but sometimes I can find no better word. If anyone has called you a bastard again, fear not, you are far from that for me, you are like a little angel with broken wings. I see so many children every day, why did it have to be you to stick to me so fast? And why, of all people, did you think I would take to you in the manner that I have? Life is a funny thing babe, for you it's been a hard one till now, I know you have never got to see the funny part. It is not I who have chosen you, but you who have chosen me. Why, I have no idea. But things in life happen for a reason, it is the only way I can explain it. And since I am absent at this very moment, I can only put my trust in God who knows all about this little angel. Please watch over him when I am absent, do not let him suffer, he doesn't deserve any more of that. He might be a feisty little boy, but he is so all good inside. It is not a case of feeling sorry for this little one, it really is a case of loving him with such a fierce love that only a mum knows about. I wish I could wrap him up and take him for good. Perhaps God will listen to me. I really hope so.

Stars and stuff

Quite a good day today. Thank God. Have had enough of them bad days. I also guess somewhere along the course of life I have made one dramatic mistake. I really thought that I had nothing in common with kids. Wrong. I do, and loads. Perhaps I haven't ever really grown up. People my age seem to be so all grown up with loads of responsibilities. Me.... well as long as I take care of my kitties, then it's all there is to it. But what is this happening, I am actually writing that I have had a good day, when it was all so black three days ago. Pitch dark, like a big black hole. Now, it's as if I have resurfaced. A good day, not just an ok one, but an actual good one. What causes the hoplessness, and what causes the hope? It's like some catch 22. But I cannot find the reason why. Of course I am not complaining, who can ever complain about a good day?


Or maybe my good days are being caused by something else? Because if you put your energy into something you really believe in, then the world suddenly starts to be a different place? Perhaps once you know you are important to somebody, no matter how distant, what race or age? And when you know you are providing an important source of support, you somehow cannot afford to let that someone down. Really cannot decide. It's all so complicated. It really shouldn't be. But someone, somewhere has made it a point to tell me that I will always be in his heart. And that little someone is too important to let down. He is wishing on a star, and no matter how far stars are, I will give him his star. It's a promise. And a hug. Oh, and a kiss.

Perspectives

So here I am again. Guess the silent period is over for now. What a horrible period that was. And just when i really felt I couldn't take anymore, life has suddenly changed, overnight. ARANI ISSA??? eat your heart out! Well, perhaps I could not be more wrong here, seeing that I am in charge of a lot of things as regards the blessed/damn ARANI ISSA!. I guess this year's protagonists are the only witnesses I need. I suck. Quite badly at times. Or very well, it depends which way you look at it. I am so touched by people who love even though it hurts. That type of kindness will always move me to tears. It also depends on perspectives I suppose. And perspectives is a very dangerous word because a million people might have a million different perspectives. There is no way the English Oxford Dictionary can really and actually honour its meaning of the word. But I think I can, at least I think I can. Which is enough for me. Somehow, I take this ARANI ISSA! thing into real life. I want people to have what they haven't had. I just want to give to the givers. There are some really good people out there, the trouble is they remain unearthed. It doesn't trouble them, but it troubles me. And if I can only give them just a little bit of what they have given back, then it's all worth it. It troubles me no end knowing that there are people, especially kids who already know hardships. Don't get me wrong, some homes are doing a great job, and the kids really don't want for anything, but no childrens' home can ever give them what they are really looking for. I am going to risk it, most people are not going to like what I am about to do, but in all honesty, I don't care. I have had enough of trying to please everyone. It's about time I started pleasing the people who deserve it. If I can make a difference in just one child's life, then that is what I am going to do. For the few people who encourage me.. thank you. For all the others who think I'm nuts and shouldn't be doing it ... you can all *&^% off. And for all the kids who are able to see through big old me, congratulations kids, you're way ahead of the adults. We boast about ARANI ISSA! because we are able to put smiles back on people's faces. OK then, I have enough experience, I'm going to put smiles back on kid's faces now. It won't require extensive surgery, or an expensive team of experts. It is only going to require love, patience and a lot of hard work too. But if I can save just one child from going down the wrong path in life, then it will be another ARANI ISSA!, only this time, in miniature. Or perhaps in an augmented version. Again, it depends on the perspectives. There goes that dangerous word again....

The Red Admiral

There is something about Malta's green areas which doesn't make them green anymore. I haven't seen a ladybird in about two decades, I haven't seen a caterpillar for more than that. And I haven't seen a butterfly in such a long time that I cannot even find a decent timeline for that. But I saw one today. Amazing little creature, so beautiful. A red admiral, which I have only seen in pictures of books. Why would a red admiral swoop down in a traffic-congested area and rest itself on the head of a ten year old boy? A red admiral of all things? But it has made me so happy, and happy is a word which I haven't used in such a long time, that were it not for it's easy spelling, I would have mispelt outrageously. Why? No idea. I know I have become attached to yet another human being. The human heart is so infinite. Just when you think you've exhausted all the space in your heart, it somehow makes room for more. What an elastic thing this heart is, it's like Lycra. And why would a red admiral, so rare nowadays, stand still on a lonely boy who, at just ten, already knows about the strife of life? A beautiful boy who is shunned by everybody. Except for the butterfly. Which makes me think, we human beings, such complex creatures are not even able to see what a butterfly sees. I have tried to wipe away this boy's tears with a Kleenex and a big hug, and he would not let me go. Neither would I let go. Me, with a maternal instinct? I never thought that was possible, ever. I am not the mumsy type, and yet I am determined to help this child out. Because I promised him to. And he has been let down so many times before, that I will not rest until I see he has a better life. I would just take him away with me without a second thought, if only I could. What do I tell a ten year old boy when he begs me to take him with me? I have no answer, I just wish I could say yes. But I cannot because of judicial bureaucracy. Judicial shit too. But try explaining all of that to a sobbing child, it's not easy. It hurts me to see him hurt. And while I will gladly keep wiping away all the tears, there is still a child out there who is wishing on a star. I have to find that star, and put a smile on his tear-stained face. Whatever that is going to take. The things we do for love are inexplicable, and I love this boy. The red admiral knows that too and is in agreement. That's a sign enough for me.

The Destiny word

"If you don't know your destination, who determines your destiny?" "Destination....the heart, heart, heart". These are just two snippets out of two totally different songs, yet it really seems they could be related. Still in my own dilemma. And for me, they are both related. Cannot do anything but love them both. And what's worse it that they couldn't sound more opposite as they in fact do. I am honoured, both of them have entrusted me entirely with their songs. I know both, nobody else does not even they themselves. And it is difficult to keep a secret when you keep going over and over each of them in your mind 24/7. It's something like one love triangle, (there goes the love word again), and I'm the piggy in the middle. A glamorous piggy, but still the middle piggy nonetheless. And still a love triangle, although I swear there is no sex involved. One would be incest, the other would make me a bi/gay/incestuous sister. Sex has the habit of getting in the way of a lot of things, except when it's brotherly and sisterly love. Then, the love is as intense as in the wildest of love makings, just not as physical. At the same time, perhaps sex solves a lot of other life dilemmas. Been there, done that, on to the next. When it's sexless love, you are there, you do that, and you stay there... for good. And while nature sometimes is freaky and gives you your very own other half, (and it's not always your better half, but then we don't choose family), life has also uncannily given me a sisterly half. It happened, quite by accidents, but then so many babies happen by accident too, it doesn't mean they're written off. Sometimes gifts are even more special when they come as a surprise. I came about quite by accident, nobody excepted me, but hey presto there I was. And it's not as if I have ever felt unwanted. Not one single bit. It still felt as if I were the princess, and princesses are pretty, glamorous and good looking. Princes.... well they can be quite dashing too. But there is no ugly sister in this equation. Oh well, some we lose, and some we win. I'm the winner anyhow. And of course I am not complaining:) That's destiny. Sheer good destiny.

Eurovision dilemma

I am in one big dilemma. And it's all because of Eurovision. It usually is so simple, I get to figure out which the best song is, and hey presto every time I get it right. This time around, it's not so easy. A girl who I consider to be my sister is in for the competition. And my actual twin is in too. Separately. I am still reeling in amazement, both of them have done so well, and both of them are in for the finals. Couldn't judges have done me a favour and opted for just one of them? That way my life would have been so much easier. Big dilemma. Who do I support? Blood runs thicker than water, but then again I cannot turn my back on the 'sister'. I'm loaded with rhetoric questions, who is the better of them, who has the better song, they are both so different. What should I do? I have no idea. Loyalty is something which deprives me from sleep, my well deserved beauty sleep. But this is making me go nuts. I just cannot turn my back on my twin brother, and at the same time I cannot turn my back on my girl who has shared so much of my life, and a girl who has the greatest voice of all. I love both of them. Thankfully I own two telephone lines, so that is going to make my life easier. I guess I'll vote for them both. That way I hopefully will be able to live with myself. Is it Kamikaze Lover or What if We....... have a feeling I know the answer. But I am choosing the easy way out.... and voting for both. True it is not very professional of me, but I just cannot do otherwise. I could hug them both, with the same intensity. I wish them both well, both are musical genies, so I guess I'll have to do a double take. As always.