Mad sightings and Haiku

This weekend was a goodish one (v. conservative estimate). I got down to working on one of my projects, but as usual I overshot and am behind according to my overly ambitious plans!

On Saturday evening (which was part of Carnival weekend, let's not forget!) I went to The Alley in Paceville, where I saw six guys dressed as sperms – i.e. they were wearing long white socks on their heads, tight white t-shirts, and matching ski pants (eek!) and were buffered from the cold by pillows strapped to their torsos - front and rear. This presumably, to give them that tadpole shape.

Otherwise their outfits made no sense. Or have I misinterpreted this? Perhaps they were meant to be ghosts with weight issues? If this is the case, then a Freudian perspective of my interpretation of these weird costumes would be v. concerning. Fortunately I am not a Freudian. Hopefully, neither are you!

And, just in case you were wondering, I really did see them! As in I was NOT drunk. And I’m pretty sure it wasn’t a dream / figment of my imagination / psychotic episode, or I’d be in serious need of therapy if my subconscious came up with that all on its own! But anyway the bouncers didn’t let them in.

Please note: For fear of making some unintended puns or being misinterpreted I will end my commentary regarding the issue right there. I am just sorry that I didn’t manage to snap a pic of these guys with my mobile phone!

On to more sane, less worrying thoughts… I sometimes wonder whether we bloggers ever meet by chance, without knowing it or meaning to. Perhaps a fellow blogger, whose blog I regularly visit is at the same bar as myself, dining at the same restaurant, enjoying cappuccino at the same café…. Which makes you wonder about serendipity Hmmm…

Anyway, this weekend I decided to try something new. And by that I don’t mean going to the Marsaxlokk market to see the folks there set up at 6 am! No, I tried my hand at Haiku, so here hos my first haiku:

i alone at sea -
the ghost of your reflection
still skimming the deep

and my second...

the soft old lady
sits still, waiting in the park
to fly like a bird

Have a great week!

No broken vases...

Just a quick note to tell you (just in case you were wondering) that no - nobody's broken any vases on my head (yet... BUT there's still time!) and that I'm STILL here. As in: No, I haven't made my way to a non-extradition country, Alaska or outerspace. he he!

Had a nice coffee with L yesterday after work at Cesar's, chatted a little, about men, and work, and life. And of course made plans for the weekend! yipee! TGIF!

And in totally unrelated news...

Earlier this week I was just checking my horoscope for tomorrow on ivillage.com This is something I do occasionally, just in case me and all the other people of my sign i.e. Scorpio (aka Beware) are destined to hit the lottery jackpot or receive a Ferrari or something of the sort. I'm not really into astrology, but hey there's no harm in checking! I mean - if i'm going to be saving the world tomorrow i should know, so i can keep my makeup bag handy, together with my black stilettos and sleek clutch bag, for when they interview me on Larry King. Or Xarabank. Or not.

Anyway, this is what my horoscope read:

Enough with the intrigue. It's time for openness -- and maybe a little shopping. Combine the two. Let someone know what you're up to, and then buy what you need.

Ok. So, NOW can you guess what I'm going to do?

Nah! Come on!

Ok... I'll tell you, but only because you asked so nicely! I'm going to log off the blog for today. Am clearly going to spend all night drawing up my wish list... Let's see where do I start...

Hang on there a second!

I know it's like a trick question... like the ones in Aesop's fables and the Grimms' fairytales which we were told when we were young. You rub the lamp and make three wishes and then... the sphynx / genie / whatever tricks you into wasting your wishes. Or even worse turns your wishes against you. Moral: be careful what you wish for, which reminds me of two utterly gripping short stories (slightly dark but still v good): The Bottle Imp and The Monkey's Paw. Moral: beware what you wish for... it just might come true!

Talking about reading, this weekend I hope to catch up with Hemingway's For Whom the Bell Tolls!

The blogging movement

Today I’m in more of a philosophical, meditative mood than usual. Which is something at any rate. Perhaps it’s because I’m currently reading Hemingway’s For Whom the Bell Tolls. His seamless flow almost rambles subconsciously like a river going somewhere, somewhere but where? It just does something to me. I know it does.

I am having somewhat of a difficult day. More stressful really. But I can handle it (hopefully with out actually flying off the proverbial handle myself!) Deadline pushed forward here. Reschedule this and do that. And juggle-all-these­-fine-priceless one-of-a-kind- crystal-vases-without-breaking-anything.

Have not broken any crystal vases…yet. However, I sense the distinct possibility that someone might want to break one on my head pretty soon.

I was thinking (yes. Thinking. Enough of the jokes, now. I have a point to make. Teee! Heee!)

Alright, well if you’re going to be like that I won’t tell you anything. Anything.At.All. (Daqshekk. Nodding head haughtily.)

Well, I was thinking… there are all these blogs out there in the wilderness of cyberspace. Written by real people with real lives. Sitting behind their computers. Tapping away at their keyboards. All united by their blogger identities in an electronic symphony of bits, bites, downloads and emails.

It seems that blogging is being taken up quite well in Malta! I was recently emailing a guy I met via my blog about this and I thought to myself that there is this whole sub-culture of bloggers who put their lives online and read each other’s virtual words.

Then we comment. And receive emails – possibly from people who we don’t know in real life. People whose existence was previously completely unknown to us.

And yet we are all part of the same sphere in blogger terms. I mean there you are just posting your ramblings, rants, trials and tribulations online. Sending your words out like little exploration teams scouting out cyberworld… alone out into the universe. Then some come back to you as emails and posts.

And you think: This is just bloody marvellous! (Said in perfect British accent, intonation and all!)

Well, I think that I’ll be musing some more about the full anthropological and sociological aspects of ‘the blogging movement’ another time, as I have to meet a friend of mine for a coffee. Well, you know, we're just going to talk about guys. obviously.

What's your take about the blogging movement?