An old fart

And thus we didn't retire to our chambers until past two in the morning. But miraculously I still made it on time. It was quite a good day today. Nothing particularly extraordinary, but sometimes I am content with little miracles and little people. Sometimes I like big people too, but what's a girl gonna do if there are none around. Little people keep me out of trouble and that's a big statement. I am praying and hoping that my little people will rally round me and not complain that I am going against human rights. Me... against human rights? Pardon? I like to think of myself as fair, and I also think of myself as a girl who has never grown up. Asking myself 'what if it were me' is always a safe way to never go against human rights. And I'd never push it, never abuse of my power (if I have one anyway). When I was a child, I used to be so happy at any type of concert my class would be participating in. There was one teacher who taught me the game of unfairness. OK so she thought my twin was cuter. That was no reason to leave me out. So she happily gave my twin the best part, she gave everyone in the class something to do and left me sitting down to watch. Just me. And when I asked why (because I could be brazen sometimes) she said that watching was part of taking part. Geeezzze!!! I remember wishing I was an adult so I could slap her silly. But I was little so I just retired to my seat unhappily. It turns out that the same teacher celebrated her 50 years of marriage. And she asked my twin and I to provide music for her celebratory mass. And my first reaction was... oh yeah, of course, I'll sit and watch because that's part of it. It was only after a lot of persuasion that I accepted. And I am mad at myself for having accepted. I only accepted because of my twin. I still think I shouldn't have. Because I'd have got even. I was seven then, and no I haven't forgotten. And at seven I vowed to one day get even. And I had the opportunity. But I didn't. And it made me sick, me providing the music when she made me feel so left out. So I turned a mean trick of my own. Instead of wearing something decent I turned up in an old grey tracksuit. It was my way of saying, there you go you old fart. And after almost 30 years this old fart still hadn't changed. She sent a lovely scented thank you note to... Joseph, of course. Oh why why why didn't I stick to my guns? But I saw my dad getting worried, so I sort of obliged... my way. It also means I haven't changed though. For almost 30 years I've borne a grudge. I still feel the same way as that little girl felt. It doesn't change much. I just am appalled at the audacity of the old fart. But there is nothing I can do except keep the old fart as an example. An example of how I don't want to be. So it's another Celebration Day coming, at least that's what it's called now. I hope I'll do myself justice. I need the little people's help though. Fingers crossed. Because they're my friends.