Experience at 25?

So here I go again, my back hurts. The lower part of my back, just where the end of the spinal chord meets my butt. Of course my butt has to be in the picture. It always is. Big (pun not intended) sigh. I have been wondering why I am experiencing the same type of lower back pain which was chronic for some good 14+ years. It came from everyday orchestral playing. But now? And yes I remember, yesterday's Diet Coke's tragedy. I had to change mattresses, and that's tough when you're on your own, so tough that you end up with back pain. Oh well, it'll go away on its own. The real tragedy is I still cannot break the pattern I have fallen into. Up at 8, coffee, cigarette, throw clothes on and go go go. That's about it, not even moisturiser. And I am not like this at all, I was once the synonym of Carnival paint. The only tell tale sign are my nails which of course since they do not need doing up every day are perfect every day. Although I don't actually think that respect comes through powders, shadows, and sticks. But it would help me, it's just for me. A colleague of mine today decided I am an interesting person, or better put, the way I go about my job is interesting and excellent. It felt good and I loved her for it, because yes I love lapping up praise, being a performer, well we like the applause. But very haughtily, and because modesty is not in my vocabulary, I know that. I do something well or not at all. No in-betweens there. The thing which also helps is that I love my job, and I love lighting little people's faces up with excitement. Yes, I haven't changed at all in there, I love the drama. Cannot help it, but I feel that as long as it's an inspiration I guess it's ok. I do not follow notes, and I do not know why it comes so easy to me. I'll be straight about it, I have loads of knowledge, have been in the music entertainment industry for year, I guess I have a lot of the frightening word called experience. It's scary because it indicates years and aging. And I don't like it. Not one bit. But I like the experience because I can answer any question under the sun, and perhaps it's hard to believe, but some little people can ask some very dangerous questions. I don't mind, the more dangerous the better, I am attracted to danger anyway. I have no syllabus, I have had no formal Maltese training (plenty of foreign), and yet I make do. In all honestly more than make do, I like putting in a spark, I remember myself as a little person and what I would have liked to listen to and learn. That is one very good trick, to take your own self some 25 five years ago. That is experience. I used to think 25 was old, now I think I'm just going to be 25 and stay there. It's just a white lie...

The Dark Side

My house is restored to peace and order and a lovely pinky candy perfume all over. It's so nice, it looks like the war is over. That is the state I left my house in this morning, it was like a bomb had hit the kitchen table. Not now, now I discover I actually have a kitchen table. And I am not exaggerating, the few who know me well know it's so very true. I have accidentally stumbled on an old issue of Cosmo which had a whole article about themed parties. And it's made me think. Maybe I could get away with a themed I-do-party. I am just not sure if I can pull a Medusa look, and having ushers with fangs, pageboys looking like bats, and bridesmaids looking like sexy vampires. That would be cool, because I could actually have my black dress. Because it's a themed thing. I once was invited to a themed I-do party which was held on a boat, and which had a mermaid-fishy theme. Of course the mermaid was lovely, I didn't like human lobsters very much. Oh and there were so many pearls and coral. That was nice. And I also loved the way the bride's mermaid dress gave way into a teeny weeny white sequined bikini. But I don't like the sea very much, and I am not ever wearing a teeny weeny bikini like that. A bikini like that for me would cost just as much as a bridal gown, because I think I'd need 300 metres of the stuff. No, I will go black. Or I could go goth, only I'm not so sure that corsets would do me a very good favour either. I'll just have to find a black rose somewhere, or spray-paint it. Yes it's artificial I know. But so are so many I-do parties which have the classic ivory and white and top hats and flower-bud buttons. And a lot will think I'm not very sane, but then I do not care for that either because I don't think I've ever been very sane. Everyone has their dark side, and there is mine. So it would be just perfect. But then again, I do not have the excitement to go with it. I guess I will never be a blushing bride because I am so brazen (according to mummy darling) and shameless seeing that I have been doing the I-do for six years now, without even having bothered to actually do the I-do. And if I do, do I actually have to move to my mum's for the pre-wedding night? Oh God, no. I don't think she'd have me anyway, she'll never agree to my I-doing. And I don't think she will give me the bees-and-the-birds lecture either. She knows I have got a straight A in my Human Biology O'Level....