Virginal reunion

Still thinking about the reunion. I have given myself till today to decide. Because I thought it was going to be on the 8th of June, now I realise it's the 8th of May. Trust me to mix something like that up. Not because I'm stupid mind you. It's because my mind is taken up with things so much superior that it doesn't register trivial other things. My mine is a royal mind, just as the rest of me is a royal rest of me. I am convinced that there is blue blood running in there and it's not because of being a nazzjonalista or ex nazzjonalista either. Geeze if my dad saw this he'd have a heart attack, so consumed by politics. What I am hating about this reunion. Firstly why has nobody kept her maiden name? Why is it all a conjoined two surname thing? Heyyyy didn't we want to be equal? Or are we just a bunch of slobby women with a heat inside so high that we want to be owned? I will always keep my Chetcuti, even when I grow up and get married to a million men. Chetcuti stays. And it will never be a something-Chetcuti. Oh no, it will stay put and that is what my headstone will read. When I grow up and have babies there is no way I am putting an announcement in The Times of Malta reading, AnnMarie nee` Chetcuti bla bla bla. It will read AnnMarie Chetcuti. No nee`. It is pointless to change my name if it's not going to be Pitt or Noth. Chris Noth... oh God that man has me helpless. Really really helpless. That is why I watch re-runs and re-runs of Sex and the City... just to see Mr. Big and feel 16 again. No man on this planet has ever had me helpless like that. And yes I'd change my name for him because I'd love to be owned by him. Which is a mystery seeing that I don't exactly qualify for slave material. But then that's why switches were invented. Back to reunion stuff. I guess I'll go for the sake of going, and I also guess I will make a quick exit. I do not want to talk about placentas. I've never had one so what I don't know will not hurt me. I do not want to talk about breastfeeding. My breasts are there to put on show, not for some tiny creature to suck on. And then again, if it were a big creature... I'd consider a re-think. I do not want to talk about lousy husbands either because I haven't got a husband let alone a lousy one. I have my Mister who is as attentive as ever, who can talk sense, a Mister whom I can cry and laugh with, one who thinks I'm Belle in Beauty in the Beast. Of course I don't let on that I'm not. Let him think I'm some Cleopatra beauty, it doesn't harm anybody. I may have no husband, but my surrogate husband never looks down on me, always up. Well of course that's excluding the bedroom stakes. So what will I have in common with my old class mates with their virginal ways of thinking? Probably not much. They may have had placentas and gone on with their breast feeding, but they will still qualify as virgins. A virgin is not as in a vagina-known-to-man, but as in a totally dirty, crude, uncouth, sexy mind. I've always wondered why it's called deflowering. I never had a flower there, and it doesn't prick like roses do, or go all over the place as lilies do. Nor does it turn around in search of the sun as sunflowers do or open and close depending on night and day as some other species do. Where is the flower? It's in virginal minds. There is no flower, at 35 I hope my classmates will have figured that out. Some won't have, not even after having borne some four kids. Some won't even have mastered the art of swallowing, because that is something good girls don't do. They probably wouldn't even have thought of it. Dear dear Lord, what am I to do? Go and put my one asset, which has not breastfeed little mouths on show? Go for five minutes and do a vanishing act? Not go at all? Thing is I think I want to go. I'm just not sure on how long I'll make my royal presence. So maybe I'll make my royal presence together with my royal royal breasts. Go on Rob, you do the same!

Mental

I am again ever so glad that I can come here anytime. It helps my psyche because I get to say things which I couldn't say anywhere else, and get away with it. I'm very sure I could not say such things at most gatherings. Sunday mass? I really don't think so. At a political mass meeting? I don't think so either because after years of sticking staunchly to the same political party I am flashing my red indicator. A talk somewhere? A conference? Only the hardened of people wouldn't blush. And yet in this democratic country we all have the right to voice our opinion. I have my doubts as to how vocal that might be. We are all trying to keep up holy appearances. we all know that it is psychologically good for us not to keep our feelings all bottled up. And yet that is what we don't do. We keep it inside with the risk of turning the psychological into psychotic. Do not shrug this off as something which could never happen to you, I see psychotic people among the best educated and among the worst educated. There is a fine line between mentally sane and insane. And so terrified am I that I might fall into this category that I come here and belt it all out. And yes I know it's so public and for all to see, but then again I like an audience, or at the very least peeping toms. During these past four years life has changed dramatically. And life is good. And I sometimes think that I have changed too. But have I really? Have I just taken lock stock and barrel with me, including the spotlight? I'm not sure. My therapist thinks that I am his best and worst case, he has said I am his most complicated case as well as his most brilliant. I'm not sure if that is a compliment. But he does not think of me as a patient. And I guess that's good. He thinks that I have a brilliant mind (how he figured that out I have no clue) and a brilliant heart both of which work in opposite directions. And that makes sense. It at least makes sense as to why I live so much in turmoil. I call it the turmoil of inside. I don't know if it has a name. All I know that it has me wondering how I sometimes cannot understand the basics of life. It's all so oppositely unclear. But then it's been oppositely all along. I was born to two opposite parents (I couldn't have bargained for more opposite then they are) , a twin to a completely opposite other being, and when it came to love, oh God, I couldn't have rampaged as oppositely as I did. It might not make sense. But it does for me. It explains the turmoil, the opposites, and it at least provides me with precious insight. Because sometimes it's all about me.