Tit for Tat

I always have thought that it is vital for every human being to have a dream; to chase that dream; to give it birth even if it is through a difficult labour. Chase that dream. I'm not so sure now. I see a man who rose above all expectations, who chased his dream, who finally was close enough to feel it, and yet was thrown back just seconds before closing the deal on his dream. And it makes me feel so sorry, so sad, although I'm not sure I am helping very much in that way. It almost throws me into despair, but I cannot go down that road because despair is the step before death. I have to look up if I am going to be of any help. And yes I have to be of help because that is what love is all about. I have finally find a way to resurrect his dream and make it real for him to touch it and live it. I have no way. And it makes me feel helpless, but helplessness is another road I cannot let myself go down, because helplessness is eerily similar to despair. Is it fair? No it isn't, but then who said life was fair anyway? But he chased my dreams, and now I will chase his. Not as in a tit for tat, but as in a because I love him thing. And since I can only look up, up is where God is. No I do not go to God just for help, but even if I did, He'd help me anyhow. Because God is another version of loving, and it's not a tit for tat kind of loving. At least I want to believe in that because otherwise my head will hurt, my brain will start thinking despair. Or perhaps God always does His tit for tat loving, loving me because I am His daughter, loving my man because He is his son. It's all tit for tat, and it's a good thing because ironically it's all in the beauty of unconditional; as in unconditional love.

Bye bye clutter

I have been given a stern, clear warning... I either have to clear up my act... or else! Unfortunately, I have to wave goodbye to the clutter, which will mean discovering plenty of new space. I've done it once before, two years ago. Now it's time again. And the mere thought makes me go weak at the knees. And not in a good way. I hate doing this. So I will probably sit somewhere and drink Diet Coke and smoke and talk. Because someone has to provide the entertainment, and that is something which I am good at. And effortlessly so. I am not too keen on sweating it out, not in this kind of heat. Calorific loss has to come from something else. So I'll have a brand new house and that's cool. Or not so cool. Because I am used to finding my way around my clutter, although I keep losing things and finding them a year or so later. But as I peep into my garage, oh dear Lord, probably anyone but me would have a fit. A garage is supposed to house a car, not a million bits and bobs acquired over 35 years. It will all have to go. And it's not going to be easy.

The diamond perception

Sometimes seeing things from different angles of a something helps. Sometimes it doesn't. Just like watching a diamond up close and personal. A shiny diamond might be so brilliant to the naked eye that it looks perfect. Then again, magnifying it could reveal flaws and imperfections. Would I rather know the truth? Not really. Because we are all like diamonds, and we all have hidden imperfections which we have the right to hide. And perhaps revealing imperfections is humiliating. And unless humiliation is part of the pact and bargain, then no, leave those kids and less-so kids alone and let them do their thing and move on. If their imperfections are so hard to fathom out, then that's ok. That means that they strive to do the good thing. A man who looks bad and is bad usually does nothing to hide it. And perhaps that man also might be better left alone to bask in his hideousness of a creature. So I am here in this unclear world with so many people having so many different versions of real life, of what is the truth. And what is that? Your truth might be different to mine. Because you might perceive things so differently. And our perceptions might both be valid. You might think a diamond is just a rock like any other, to me it's a distinctive kind of rock, one which I would love to prettify and mould it into a six-prong setting. It still is a rock, and it still is a diamond. And where I get my love for diamonds is a mystery. A diamond is a girl's best friend huh? To me it's my ego all put into a rock, which I prefer to call a stone. And what is strange is that throughout the course of my life I have picked up quite a number, and yet yearn for more. I would give up eating if someone gave me diamonds instead. What a terrific diet that would be. I'd turn into a size 8 with an 8 carat on my finger. But I'm not so sure that anybody is ready to do that. What a pity. And I have a feeling I am rambling on from one thought to the other which makes sense to me, but which might not make sense to you. I'm sorry if it doesn't. But it's all about perception, the magical golden word.