I just cannot stop shivering. I also am having Beechams Hot Lemon, it usually works miracles. The thing is I'm not sure I have a cold. Something's wrong, my vision is not quite right and it's not because I need to have it corrected. I have also tried my something else (cannot specify because since a one or a two people reading my blog do it to try and find something which could be used in spite, and no I am not imagining), and something is terribly wrong. It is probably the reason why I feel so not right, so light headed. Well, I am trying the cure of a good night's sleep. It'll soon be tomorrow, and tomorrow is the happy face day after so many days of waiting. Perhaps too many.
Tuesday, January 6, 2009
What's Eating Gilbert Grape?
I said I'd do it tomorrow, and since today is tomorrow here I am. I always keep my promises or at least try my very best to keep my promises. And if I don't keep my promises with my blog then who will? So this goes way back in the life of this 35 year old, I must have been something like 20, because I think it was in 1993. I was also engaged, oh la la, I actually had a very pretty ring on my finger, one with scattered diamonds, because back then I was not yet a diamond connoisseur the way I am today. I would never wear the same ring today, not because it wasn't pretty, but because just as my age has increased, my love for diamonds got bigger, a love for bigger diamonds to put it precisely because I want my love for diamonds to be exact. I don't know why but it's important. And I was sitting in the cinema with my then fiance, who really was ok, but who was nothing to shout about, poor guy, he was actually extremely attractive, extremely good at his job, but he was the kind of guy I could take to my mother, and that puts a damper on the excitement. And at the time all I could think of was excitement, of mind-blowing things which I cannot describe because I have yet to censor the contents. And yet this same guy loved movies too, so he was perfect for that time being. And another thing which should have put another damper on things was that I had got tickets to the movie at a grossly reduced price because they were heavily subsidised by some saintly, holy institution who thought that this was a movie good enough for the good enough. And oh dear they were so awfully wrong, my guess is they never watched it themselves in the first place, because Gilbert and his Grape touched quite some fragile facts of life with a vengeance. And I wasn't scared watching Gilbert, but it would be the one movie to come back and haunt me until yesterday when I finally realised why. That means a good 16 years later. Now I've never been exactly the one to visit cinemas at Xmas and feast days, for a long long time I would have watched everything showing in Eden and waiting painfully for something else to come and tickle my fantasy. Because thanks to KRS it has to be on a Wednesday doesn't it? I love movies, especially those that arise out of novels. Heavy movie watching makes you suddenly a very unaccomplished person socially, because you want to keep your secret as you don't want to be thought of as some dirty old woman sitting for a whole day in the same seat at City Lights Cinema Theatre in St. John's Street in Valletta. And yes I have been there, quite by accident, quite too young, quite very much in the wrong place at the wrong time because some girl in my same class at High school thought it was a scream. It was no scream the way she meant a scream but I'll rant on that later on.
Back to Gilbert. It is Johnny Depp, big big swoon, and also Leo di Caprio whom I have never found a swoon but who is also very good at being Gilbert's younger mentally challenged brother Arnie (it's amazing how it is all so very clear 15 years down the line). Their morbidly obese mother Bonnie has taken to sitting on the couch watching TV after her husband committed suicide (not in a nice way) some 15 years earlier. There are two other sisters who do all the housework. Gilbert also works in some food store, keeps an eye on his brother, and is having an affair with a married woman. The story continues from there with Gilbert always running after his brother to keep him out of trouble and to stand up for the 'silly' thing she sometimes does. In the meantime Gilbert meets a young girl, Becky (not of the Dejjem Tieghek) and there starts a budding romance. Gilbert's affair ends when his lover's husband dies a tragic death in a paddling pool. At the same time, Arnie gets arrested and for the first time in all these long years the mother finally gets off her couch and storms into the police station demanding his release. Of course a 500 pound woman puffing to the station makes her an object of ridicule but nothing stops her. A while later Arnie escapes again and Gilbert suddenly loses his temper and beats his brother who is so scared that he runs to Becky for comfort. Ashamed of himself, Gilbert just goes off on his own but is persuaded to come back and apologise during Arnie's 18 th birthday party. For the first time, their mother decides to climb the stairs to her bedroom where she is found dead the following day. Ashamed that they would have to call a crane to lift their mother's corpse out of the house, the children empty all contents and set the house on fire. A year later Gilbert is on screen side by side with Arnie while they wait for Becky who has since become his girlfriend.
And that's the whole movie. And now I know why it haunts me. It is all so surreal. I can identify with so many things that happened to me and things which I was scared would happen to me but didn't. Arnie, the mentally challenged brother; my inexplicable fear that someone I love might become disabled. Bonnie, the mother, widowed by her husband who hanged himself... least said the better. Bonnie becoming morbidly obese and unable to move. All right so I'm not a 500 pounds, I'm half that. And half is definitely different, but still scary. The people laughing and gawking at Bonnie. I can so so understand. Bonnie heaving herself to release her son; yes I would do the same if I had to; my non-stop thinking of it could have been me or my twin. Bonnie finally beginning to find a reason to live only to die during the night. That means just when things start looking up, there is is, another blow. And that sums up what I live every day. Happy but scared. I sometimes have to type the word happy, erase it, type it again, erase it, type it yet again and sometimes erase it for good, other times leave it frightened that by typing the word happy I am defying life. Because one day I was in their same place, a place when suffering was all that happened. And then came the fear, the fear of going out, the fear of meeting people, the fear, of all things, shopping! And I love shopping, but there was a time when I couldn't get myself to go out and get a simple carton of milk, or a simple plain lipstick just off the chemist's shelf, or, and this is really scary, there was a time when I could never walk into a shoe store and buy the simplest pair of laces. And I am addicted to shoes. But there was this time. And one day too, like Bonnie, I climbed the stairs meekly to my imaginary bedroom. But I didn't die. I lived. And there was one man whom I will never forget, firstly because he was probably the first musical role model I ever had. He taught me all I know, and I am grateful to him. And destiny had it that I then took over his post, and never ever did he bear a grudge. And another thing, he made me realise that there was no choice. I had to live. I have risen from those coals, the ones which were almost out. I have known fear as if there were no tomorrow, fear when I wished there would be no tomorrow. But that man drummed it into my head, no choice, no choice, I had to live. And I did. I'm so glad I did. Thanks go to this man. A very special man indeed. Because it cannot be all bad, we just have to bide our time, until it's time for resurrection. And I'm back.
Back to Gilbert. It is Johnny Depp, big big swoon, and also Leo di Caprio whom I have never found a swoon but who is also very good at being Gilbert's younger mentally challenged brother Arnie (it's amazing how it is all so very clear 15 years down the line). Their morbidly obese mother Bonnie has taken to sitting on the couch watching TV after her husband committed suicide (not in a nice way) some 15 years earlier. There are two other sisters who do all the housework. Gilbert also works in some food store, keeps an eye on his brother, and is having an affair with a married woman. The story continues from there with Gilbert always running after his brother to keep him out of trouble and to stand up for the 'silly' thing she sometimes does. In the meantime Gilbert meets a young girl, Becky (not of the Dejjem Tieghek) and there starts a budding romance. Gilbert's affair ends when his lover's husband dies a tragic death in a paddling pool. At the same time, Arnie gets arrested and for the first time in all these long years the mother finally gets off her couch and storms into the police station demanding his release. Of course a 500 pound woman puffing to the station makes her an object of ridicule but nothing stops her. A while later Arnie escapes again and Gilbert suddenly loses his temper and beats his brother who is so scared that he runs to Becky for comfort. Ashamed of himself, Gilbert just goes off on his own but is persuaded to come back and apologise during Arnie's 18 th birthday party. For the first time, their mother decides to climb the stairs to her bedroom where she is found dead the following day. Ashamed that they would have to call a crane to lift their mother's corpse out of the house, the children empty all contents and set the house on fire. A year later Gilbert is on screen side by side with Arnie while they wait for Becky who has since become his girlfriend.
And that's the whole movie. And now I know why it haunts me. It is all so surreal. I can identify with so many things that happened to me and things which I was scared would happen to me but didn't. Arnie, the mentally challenged brother; my inexplicable fear that someone I love might become disabled. Bonnie, the mother, widowed by her husband who hanged himself... least said the better. Bonnie becoming morbidly obese and unable to move. All right so I'm not a 500 pounds, I'm half that. And half is definitely different, but still scary. The people laughing and gawking at Bonnie. I can so so understand. Bonnie heaving herself to release her son; yes I would do the same if I had to; my non-stop thinking of it could have been me or my twin. Bonnie finally beginning to find a reason to live only to die during the night. That means just when things start looking up, there is is, another blow. And that sums up what I live every day. Happy but scared. I sometimes have to type the word happy, erase it, type it again, erase it, type it yet again and sometimes erase it for good, other times leave it frightened that by typing the word happy I am defying life. Because one day I was in their same place, a place when suffering was all that happened. And then came the fear, the fear of going out, the fear of meeting people, the fear, of all things, shopping! And I love shopping, but there was a time when I couldn't get myself to go out and get a simple carton of milk, or a simple plain lipstick just off the chemist's shelf, or, and this is really scary, there was a time when I could never walk into a shoe store and buy the simplest pair of laces. And I am addicted to shoes. But there was this time. And one day too, like Bonnie, I climbed the stairs meekly to my imaginary bedroom. But I didn't die. I lived. And there was one man whom I will never forget, firstly because he was probably the first musical role model I ever had. He taught me all I know, and I am grateful to him. And destiny had it that I then took over his post, and never ever did he bear a grudge. And another thing, he made me realise that there was no choice. I had to live. I have risen from those coals, the ones which were almost out. I have known fear as if there were no tomorrow, fear when I wished there would be no tomorrow. But that man drummed it into my head, no choice, no choice, I had to live. And I did. I'm so glad I did. Thanks go to this man. A very special man indeed. Because it cannot be all bad, we just have to bide our time, until it's time for resurrection. And I'm back.
Coat?
Ah I remembered what I forgot to put on my list of items-bought-on-sale things; something which goes by the name of a housecoat. Which is anything but. In the same way that people should not throw stones at glasshouses, then anything worn inside a house should never be called a coat. And if what I bought is called a coat then it's a very strange coat; firstly because it;s such a soft baby pink, secondly because it has tiger fur trimmings which make it look very sexy. But then whom does anybody have to impress inside the house? My TV wouldn't mind if it were the unsexiest thing on earth. It probably will be enjoyed extremely by the Mister, but it's a housecoat for God's sake and not lingerie. And there I rest my case...
Car Boot
I clean forgot, such was I taken up by the thoughts of little people. I again bagged myself a lot of stuff which fit into my car boot with room for nothing else. Car boot, I hate the words, they remind me of silly car boot sales where suddenly the odd white germ-infected lipstick looks nice to people because it's a 10 cents. Or something like 25 Euro cents, I have yet to start thinking in Euro. Well I do not buy something just because it's 25 Euro cents, especially when you're also paying for the germs, and then they also call them flea markets. Flea markets? When did fleas suddenly become attractive? My guess is they aren't called flea markets for nothing either. So I just have no space at all to put my today's acquisitions, a white fur coat, a white cardigan which spells Breakfast at Tiffany's, my only ever denim skirt, a couple of tracksuits, a pair of denims, and definitely more things but I've forgotten because they're still locked in the car boot, which is used for nothing else except to hold things in. That's all.
Mad?
I'm back after having done the supposedly tour de magasins, which actually turned out to be just one tour d'un magasin. This shop just had too much to offer, and I woke up late because it seems that all the Lemon Sips I've had over the holidays haven't worked that much. My head hurts, my stomach is best left empty, and I realise that I really have stayed in too much during the holiday period because of sniffles and what nots. And I am dying to go out, meet the little faces. True, today is the last holiday, but really, once you see the little faces again all the disgruntlement of having had to wake up an hour earlier dissolves into nothing. I do not understand why so many colleagues are almost upset at the holidays being over. Can anybody be paid ad eternum to holiday? And is our job that bad? I really don't think so. Minus the getting up that bit earlier, I like it. Yes now I know I'm about to receive a couple of messages which I will not publish, the type of hey are you crazy or what? And if liking the little people so much is crazy, then yes I'm as mad as a hatter. And yes I'm so mad that I've missed them. That's the truth. Having 30 minutes less sleep will not be so bad, I'll get used to it. I just happened on this job by sheer coincidence, a coincidence which should have never happened. But it did, and I didn't like it at first because it was a total change and I don't take to change easily. But it happened nonetheless, and there I was asking myself and the world why, when now I thank life for it having happened. It's the best job in the world. And no I'm not very religious but well, even a great man like Jesus thought so. So if He thought so and I think so then we're both mad, then that would make Jesus mad? Geeze what a horrible thought, yet an equation. Or we can waive away the equation and make another, since Jesus was not mad, then that makes me not mad. Ok, no need for shrinks, I'm normal. Because Jesus said so. And that's a hard one to argue about.
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