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.