Sexy Talent?

I am still working, of course having had a lot of breaks, smoking breaks, diet coke breaks. I just have to finalize my project, well actually it's my Mister who's finalizing things. He's good at that and don't I love him for it. I'm good at running my polished nails through my hair and working myself in a state. Have had to re-write the National Anthem and that got me bored, but it had to be done because little people have their own vocal range. And that's ok. It's not as if I'm tired, it's night-time, the time when I deliver my very best. I still cannot for the life of me remember the lyrics of this Innu Malti. I sort of know them but I keep getting confused. Still thinking of Susan Boyle and also thinking of how shallow a world we have become. We love her now, we say she's got the voice of an angel and yet call her a hairy angel. I always think of an angel as something pretty, so it's either an angel or hairy. But we suck, we human beings just suck and we cannot even give a good sucking at that. We expect the sexy kitty to perform well. Humbug. If we want sex we should go to places providing the sex and not to Britain's got Talent. People working in the sex industry look sexy because that is their job.... to look sexy. Talent is something else....

Happy

My house is so full of instruments that I'm glad they don't have a mind of their own and start playing in a mad jig. I also hope my cats will not think they are toys... at least until tomorrow. So far, so good. But it's always on my mind. Well, I've taken the risk. I gone so far with the risk by giving my little people the instruments to try out at home. And I've been called slightly insane for that. But these little people have so far been good with them. Motivation. That's all that is needed. I could have locked them up couldn't I? But I didn't and I won't. I only hope I will find someone to help me carry all the instruments to my car once it's over. They must weigh some 50 kg or more together. Well, here's hoping someone will volunteer, and if they don't I will ask for the help. But I'm happy with the way things are. And happy is one very nice word. They thought I'd lay down and die. And no, it's not the little voices talking to me, although I have plenty of those. And perhaps I was very close to lying down. But I didn't die. I just got resurrected thanks to the little people who never thought I was a freak. The little people who are sometimes naughty, very naughty and who are as mischievous as you can get. It's not all plain sailing. But when I get out of bed in the morning, no matter how late, I just remind myself that I'm off to meet little people. And that always makes me smile. I had lived a life of grandeur, with grand people and grand concerts and grandiose ideas and behaviours and presidential what nots. So many people with so many different temperaments most trying to work the sex instead of the music. I now live a life where the sexual innuendos have all gone, a life filled with little people. And perhaps I do not have the plush red seat in front, but the love of all the little faces full of excitement and wanting to do their best. And I love this life.