In-betweens

I'm just sitting here and listening to Mariah Carey's "My All" which is heart wrenching on a good day. This isn't the usual me. I love listening to come-on-cry music, which may cross the times from Bach and Beethoven, to Bartok... and Mariah Carey. I think I could break my life into stages just by the music I listened to during all stages, including the old ancient ages. But this is either good or not good. I could never make my mind up. It felt safe. Not now. I think my mind is made up. To do or not to do? I have resisted the I-doi-ng thing for so long, most people have given up on me. But since I'm never single I do not even qualify for a shelf. I think I'm an in-between. In a lot of spheres. My shoe size is an in-between, I will not even comment about my clothing size, the way I think is an in-between, the music I love is also an in-between. And my love life... oh God that's been a hell of a lot of in-betweens. An in-between engagements, an in-between-almost weddings which I run away from just in time, in-between illicit affairs (no use hiding it), in-between a brother and a brother in-law, and in-between daughter (at least my mum thinks I am a part-time daughter, so that makes me qualify), in-between everything. Perhaps now it's time I made the move I'm so scared about. Living as an in-between is safe. I am a girlfriend, a fiancee, sitting-very-prettily, but not a wife. Because the W word is scary; wife, weddings, witness. And the in-between is safe. But I guess it's time now. Should I finally kick the fear away and make an honest woman of myself? One condition.... I want a black dress...for many in-between reasons.

Dior, Clinique et Estee Lauder

It's a totally-on-my-own situation here. I'm the queen of my castle, whatever I say goes. Well, in that respect, it's not very different than usual, whatever I say always goes anyhow. Oh dear, I must be very bossy in here, no wonder my cats sometimes shoot me a wicked look. It's not as if they have anything to complain about, they always come first anyway.

So seeing that 9am was no time to get back into bed, I decided I might as well take myself out to the only shops opening on a Sunday, and that's Baystreet. And oh I loved splurging on Dior, and Clinique. There are three cosmetic brands which have me in awe, that's these two and Estee Lauder. Maybe I have something for blue. Clinique is all flowery packaged, while Dior And Estee Lauder come in a deep dark shiny blue which I can never resist. I also never say no to free gifts and as it is I came out having had a very good deal for my money; free eyeshadow in the shade I wear, free lipstick in the shade I wear, free foundation in the shade I wear and a free eye pencil also in the shade I wear. Oh and... instructions!! As if a 35 year old non-single female needs make up instructions. Come on, at 35, I've tried everything and anything which hits the market for a good 23 years. And after 23 years of trial and error, but mostly succeeding, I really do not need a tiny glossy card, the size of a post-it note, to instruct me on how to do it. Or how to put it on. But who am I to argue, free is free, I'll just put the instruction card away, no harm done. Oh and I bought skin care too, and I loved it when a girl directed me to the 'my age' skincare range which was a 25 to 30 years old. Hurray I could have kissed her and of course I couldn't disappoint her so I just browsed there, waited for her attention to go somewhere else and silently crept up to the my-actual-age skincare range. I don't get skin this good for nothing, but I am just not ready to let on. At least for now. So I'm writing in here with all my new possessions put into army, soldier-like positions for me to be able to look at. Because if I am paying for the beautiful packaging, then I might as well watch.

Variety

I broke my sleepy record again today. I got to see dawn break, I wonder why they call it breaking, dawn doesn't really break anything, dusk is the one which breaks the light, dawn is more innocent, it just sheds a lot of light that's all. Or perhaps the one who decided to adverb it as breaking was someone like me who loved the dark, and since dawn gets rid of the dark then it's breaking our kind of darkness. I don't know if that even makes sense. It's way too early for me to be functioning, and too early to be writing in here, but this is what has to keep me going for almost three days now. Another thing which will keep me going will be a visit to Baystreet's Franks; I need some Forever Dior, the stuff is addictive, very good and at least I will have something to look at, that is my face plastered with Dior. I had an extremely spaghetti-style blow dry till 5am this morning, when I braved the wind and rain. Poor Nigel, he takes so much pains in doing my extra long hair, just for it to last a day. I'm not going anywhere near the guy for now, he really doesn't deserve it. I wonder what's happening right now on KM 0100. Probably my Mister will be sleeping the whole flight off. It's amazing how this man can suddenly switch off and sleep even in uncomfortable situations. It would take me some three dozens of hypnotics to get me to snooze. My twin half is another one who will fall asleep in a snap, of course he just *has* to be my opposite in that too. And just to be my opposite he wakes up in another snap, while I drag myself, not very successfully sometimes, he'll be up and about like a sparrow. Which is what he is going to be like if he continues his mad diet craze... a sparrow. I like sparrows, they hop nibbling discarded food, I've liked watching them forever, they're cuties. But men sparrows? Oh no, I once went out with a man like that, and it was once, just the once, I could not take the tiny wrists. And he had no six pack to compensate, at least my twin has that. I will never forget this sparrow-like man, not because he was sparrow-like but because he was so mean, he talked in such an evil manner and had a grudge against the world. Really strange guy, one no girl would be safe with. I just couldn't wait to get away, he was giving out all the wrong vibes, no thank you, I've been in enough scrapes, and if he was spellbound by my face, well I was spellbound because I had never met anybody so full of hatred. Seriously. Yeah I know, not all sparrow-like people are mean, but of course I had to bag the one. Probably even Birdlife would have turned a blind eye at him during the hunting period. But I suppose variety is what makes the world goes round. I am thankful that not all men like sparrow-like women, although a woman with tiny wrists looks fine, she'll look fragile and be perfect to appeal to a man's sense of wanting to protect her, if she manages to find a man like that. But there are men out there who like big girls, and I'm not talking about gay men. Beautiful gay men adore big girls but love men. Because gay men are like a B & B, they adore the Breasts and the Booty but love six packs and abs. However some straight men go completely nuts for us big girls. Do not ask me why because I don't even want to know why, I just lap up all the attention. What I see as physical flaws, they will adore. Maybe they are very short-sighted but I am not about to direct them to an oculist. And while I will try to hide, they want to see and sigh in wonder. Perhaps they are totally psychotic, but they truly believe that big hips and butts are sexy. They are confused by the fact that we big girls do not flaunt our thighs, perhaps because their brain is stuck in Malta's Goddess of Fertility stone age period. And I let them be. They can stay there, no need to move into 2009.