Of God and hotdogs

Ok that's it. Time to snap out of the pensive mood which is leading to nowhere anyway. I am not life's lollipop lady, I don't get to choose who to halt and who not to halt. And I'm about to use the philosophy I use when I go on massive shopping trips... we'll see about the credit card bill later. Or perhaps God will take care of it. That is something I learned from my oh so formative experience in orchestra. It was all quite a Godly experience too seeing that the word Alla, of course meaning God, would be used in different metaphors, exclamations, and at least once every two sentences. So there I wonder why a convent educated girl like me found it so strange. I got used to it, but I never picked it up. Because proper ladies talk to God in private. At least I try. It's as if the spirit (pun intended) is willing, but sometimes the flesh is weak. Or perhaps I've heard just one too many Godly remarks during my orchestral days. I'm not sure. But I sure learnt all the facts of life in there. Anyway. Time to do something sinful, but not Godly sinful. It's hotdog time. God will forgive that, I mean he created dogs after all. And he gave man the intellect to warm food up and make it hot. So God will forgive. I'm not too sure my hips will be as forgiving. Or my derriere at that. But God created those too, in His image. So I'll just enjoy... Glory be to God and all of me which He created. Always in His very own image. So long.

Catch 22

Sometimes the going is easy. Then someone comes and snags it. Shit. And it'll be a home truth I don't want to think about. Because I forgive myself for having weird, sometimes morbid thoughts. But I don't forgive just anybody. I know it wasn't meant to hurt, but it stabbed my heart and has left me unable to cope with the bleeding, because when it comes to matters close to the heart, coagulation eludes me. I was said very mater of factly... who knows who of you (twins) will pass first? Oh God, what a question, which was followed with another statement also said matter of factly... you do realise that one of you will attend the other's funeral. No question mark there. Just a statement. A horrible statement which is true. And I've thought about this before and pushed it not just to the back of my head but dynamited it out completely. Still, both the question and the statement holds. My answer, well I hope it will be me so that I will not have to deal with my other half's passing. But that is so selfish, especially when I know that although I might fare badly when faced with grief, he would fare worse. So do I hope it's him? That's also selfish. But there is a remote possibility that these twins a unlike as chalk and cheese will make a graceful exit, and just as we were young have two identical oak thingies to hold us. Ok it's morbid, and a fact, and a catch 22, albeit a horrible one. Hopefully we'll have Joe Demicoli to liven things up for us. That way, we'll both go off in style. Oh and we'll be both in the papers too, and I don't mean just the obituary section. We'll make front page.

The Why's

I wish it were all so simpler, just as if it would be if I could rewind time to when I was 5 years old. Life was so easy then. Perhaps because I knew nothing about precious Euro, then the Maltese Lira. I never wanted for anything back then, not that I'm in want now, but life was so much easier because I had people to think about me. And I thought that being 5 years old was boring. I wanted to grow up so I could come and go as I please. And I wasn't exactly brought up in a strict household. Still I wanted the power to wear heels, to plaster make up on, to do whatever I liked. Which in turn is also strange seeing I did what I, no, we, liked most of the time. Because I don't even have my own history, and I am thankful for that. We ran around the kitchen table like maniacs and probably drove our mother nuts. Not my dad, he thought it was fun and would join us too. Dear dear daddy. And yes I still felt alone somewhat. I tried to combat that by doing plenty of talking-to-myself tactics. And when that didn't work, I turned to books. Yes at five years old. They were company. And still life seemed easier. I cannot say that I didn't have a care in the world. I did. I was too painfully aware of illness and handicaps and the injustice of it all used to swirl round in my five year old head incessantly. It still does, although the swirling has had a promotion and feels more like the Bermuda triangle during a tornado. Because I still do not understand why. I just wish life were simpler, easier to comprehend. Perhaps I should make peace with the swirling, the tornadoes and the Bermuda triangles. The trouble is, will they make peace with me? It always takes two or more. And that's yet another why.

Chocolates

I've always liked Forest Gump. Everything about it and him spells success. The moral of the story, the music, and the child-like Forest who looks 'odd' and yet so endearing. His most famous quote, 'Life is like a box of chocolates..... ' And it's so true, you just never know what you're going to get. Chocolates, that is where my expertise lies. Chocolate is just so nice to me. Although it could be more forgiving and not go straight to my hips, but anyhow, nobody's perfect, and chocolate isn't either. But I don't like chocolates which come in a box, because they will be assorted, and I don't like assortment. In the same way I don't like change, that is if it doesn't come blond, blue-eyed, with a six pack and with eyes for nobody but myself. Back to the box, because here I'm thinking in and out of it fast. One of the worsts presents anybody can give me (hinting here), is an assorted box of chocolates. Because the content will not be pure smooth choc, but chocolate-orange (which I hate because it reminds me of Clockwork Orange somehow and I don't like that), strawberry choc, mint choc (those are the worst), and every combination plus the chocolate. Me... I want the real thing, no half measures. I don't like half and half. I want it all... untarnished. I want to taste just the chocolate. If I feel like an orange, then I'll eat an orange. If I feel like strawberries, then I'll gorge on strawberries, not even strawberries with cream. Nada, I want to taste the bottom line. Same as in life. I want the real thing. No half-heartedness about anything. no halfhearted love, no halfhearted sex even. No I won't compromise. Period.