Taking a bite out of my weekend

I had a great weekend - far better than I even expected. After work on Friday I rushed home, did the shower-hair-makeup-wardrobe-mirrorcheck routine and dashed out to meet JC for a much needed coffee. At 11 pm dropped off JC and went to pick up Lars for a night out at Gianpula, which turned out to be fun. The only upsetting thing about Friday was that on our way out of Gianpula this freaky-looking guy stopped me in my tacks with (get this.... TOP pick-up line turn on phrase coming your way - NOT...)

Ha nigdmek, hi!

Which translates to: Lemme bite you, girl!



Eeeewwww! A primitive insane reflex action led me to turn my head towards the speaker to examine this very troubling genetically deficient ape-like male specimen. Meanwhile I was giving him my 'drop-dead-and-rot-in-hell' glare. Seeing that he was the size of King Kong's older brother, I reluctantly decided that it was best not to hit him (metaphorically) with one of the many snide remarks in my warding-off-unwanted-admirers arsenal or (literally) with my totally cute and stlylish hardback handbag.

Closer inspection of the ill-groomed creature proved that he also suffered deficiencies in the oral hygene department. And I imagine this guy fancies himself to be some kind of dark intriguing vampire-style seducer of defensless womenfolk, loving his women to death etc. Well I guarantee you that the very thought of this guy biting into anything (let alone anyONE!) is disgusting enough to kill said defensless womenfolk on the spot! Gag! Gag! Gag!

But moving on to better things... Saturday and Sunday morning, I spent working on my laptop (hang on... did I say 'moving on to better things'... erm...)

But that effort was well rewarded on Sunday afternoon which I spent lounging in the most relaxing environments imaginable... so really hard work does pay off, once in a while!

And it's Monday again and back to work!

TGIF - will make up for it at the weekend!

So TGIF! Yippeee! Or well, I would like it to be yippee! But since I am behind with absolutely everything, I will be spending most of the weekend inside cramped in some weird position on my bed with my faithful laptop, books flying out of my ears and a pitcher of coffee on my bedside table.

Writing. Typing, typing.

Typing hard. Harder. The letters on my keys fading.

Save. Proof. Edit. Read. Re-read. Send.

Sit. Wait for a reply. Longingly. Hoping for one reply and fearing another.

Oh well!

However, this evening I am going for coffee with JC and later will head out to THE local summer club (aka Gianpula) with Lars and E. I have decided to postpone all the hard work until tomorrow and Sunday. Call it procrastination. Call it burnout deflection. Call it what you want. But it reminds me of a phrase Frank (Nicolas Cage) says in the film Bringing Out the Dead:

“Distraction. Destruction. I feel the need!”

Truth is that a good part of my brain has been taken over by some hedonistic persona which unbeknown to yours truly had been lurking in the shadows, just waiting for the right moment to pounce on me and take over in manner of guerrilla-warfare-tactician. So prior to meeting JC I have decided to go and do some serious shopping (aka more damage to my bank account!) I feel like buying myself something new, but the shop windows with all their lime green, crazy yellow and psycho pink are going to let me down I fear. Perhaps, at least some accessories. Or a bag and new shoes. Hmmm! Am feeling decidedly better already.

Hopefully Gianpula will be good tonight. And I'm not just talking good I'm talking a blast!

Then I'll make up for it tomorrow morning by working non stop. Eeek! And once these deadlines are past, I have decided to treat myself to a spectacularly luxurious spa-type weekend break in Gozo! Now, that’s something to look forward to!

Well, as I always say: I’m a girl, so I can get away with it! (Or rather, I always manage to at any rate!)

Have a great weekend all!

Take care and keep in touch!

Spike's Feng Shui

It is with great regret
that I am writing
to inform you that
Spike
is Dead.

He stood
silent
on a windowsill
for eighteen months.

Motionless.
Unobtrusive.
Undemanding.

Then,
riding on a drunken wave
of unbridled courage
he set sail upon a gust of wind
veiled
as promising spring air.

Spike sprung through nothingness -
hopeful,
he took the leap.

The wind slowed,
its swell decreasing
suddenly.

Most regrettably
Spike landed not on my bed -
as I imagine was his original intention
(being
an obelisk-shaped cactus
complete with
a pink flower
perched on top.)

He came to rest
against
the cold tiled floor of my room,
his body mangled
and twisted
and broken.
Not his intention,
I'm sure.

My windowsill
looks plainly
onto my bed,
just a foot away.

The wind
smiles upon successfully
ridding my room
of bad
feng shui.

Spike is dead.

Hope lives
in the smile of
the wind.

Perhaps the next plant
to grace my windowsill
will be
a
ghost orchid.

Intense

Last weekend, I had a blinding flash of light over a cosy dinner garnished with some intense conversation... and no the flare wasn't caused by an ominous case of stormy weather or faulty light bulbs firing up! I realised that I am apparently helplessly drawn to all things intense. This hit me with a bang while my host and I were having a seemingly innocuous conversation.

Misinterpreting the puzzled look which clouded my face (which usually means that I am pretty close to some Eureka-type moment of revelation!) my host asked me what was wrong. Briefly testing my intensity theory I deviously deflected the conversation on a subject which was sure to capture all his attention.

I put my thoughts on hold until the time when I would step into my car and drive – because that is when I think best. Once the meal was concluded with dessert and time came for me to part from my dining companion my mind eagerly revved to the intensity business. Thoughts and memories confirming my theories came in waves which ebbed and flowed to the tune of my diesel engine.

My reflections, during the twenty-minute drive home proved my theory. I cannot deal with bland apathy and blunt impartiality. They are as dead as dinosaurs and as boring as a hollow bark of a tree (an expression which reminds me of someone I once used to date! Don’t even try to get this one – it’s a joke between my favourite three people; me, myself and I! Just kidding…)

Then intensity slithered alongside my car, sliding over the dew on the badly-surfaced tarmac road. Intensity presented itself along with two cars speeding and overtaking each other behind me. I had to swerve violently to get out of the way of the crated-up cars, seemingly fresh out of the Fast and the Furious or perhaps even Gone in Sixty Seconds, seemingly racing each other without having much control of their cars’ progress on the by-pass.

So close to my heart is the need to feel intensity, which is really all about the energy of life in its purest form, that I have written this haiku. .

Intensity is a double-edged sword

When its frosty blade cuts you

It severs.

I think that the Zen Master would like that!

Now, on a more mundane note - can someone please explain to me why these tough rider wannabes think that speeding about the Maltese roads in the early hours of a humid morning is a good idea?

Long time!

Admittedly I haven’t checked in on you guys in a long time. It’s been such a long time that in fact I am not even going to try and justify this. It’s too complex and personal – even for an ‘anonymous’ blog such as this. Suffice it to say that all projects are back on track-ish’. (Ish being the ever important suffix type-thing!)

A couple of emails from concerned friends, pissed off regular readers and people completely unknown to me (hailing from New York to Kent to Milan and Australia) made me rethink my idea of taking the blog offline. Which is perhaps a good thing.

Just a note regarding what’s been happening on my planet for the past erm, ahem since, well, (GAWD! Now I feel really bad…) since May 4 th. Obviously I am a very bad person, and possibly even a worse blogger – I have not blogged in a MONTH. In OVER a month actually. Ooops! Oh well!

No – just in case you were wondering, this absence of mine is not due to my having won the lottery (as self had erroneously predicted) having spent all the cash and now being indebted to the little evil bank manager person! I could obviously adjust all too easily (perhaps also naturally) to the lavish life of constantly jetting around on expensive planes / yachts / cars / helicopters with good looking men, having A-list male celebrities in punch-outs and possibly Mexican Standoffs fighting over moi… Not that it has ever happened, but it could… Hey, come on I’d be worth it, non?

Acutually, I had a couple of setbacks - perfectly normal thing, afterall one cannot expect to be getting one’s way all the time. Tee hee! Yes, I say ALL the time.

Will have to get self forgiven with a couple of good posts… so will be working on that in the very near future!

Meanwhile if anyone knows the correct lotto numbers for next draw please EMAIL ME! (Yes, I know, this is getting delusional, but so what?)

Winners & Losers

One can surely divide the world according to different criteria, eg wealth, age, language, race, religion. But one thing that slices through all these boundaries like a scalpel is certainly success. In life, there are winners and there are losers. Period.

Now which group would you rather belong to? Don’t bother answering. It’s obvious enough.

(In the instance that you have selected the more-obscure and less obvious option i.e losers, please back away from your computer, slowly. Refrain from making any sudden moves. Please stand up, call the funny farm and wait for your white-coat clad escorts to fit you into that snug circulation-cutting little white vest before carting you off to the Hill.)

Face it, we live in a culture obsessed with winning. And I for one, quite fancy the winning bit, particularly after lots and lots of hard-work, sweating, racing-pulse, etc. What I cannot possibly, ever understand is what the Infinitely Wise One (IWO) was thinking when he made the likes of Paris Hilton – not that it is for me to understand, I would never be *that* arrogant. Really. But I have a little issue with Ms Hilton and her ilk. The world is their oyster and they shun Fate’s smile on their undeserving faces, in the manner with which ducks let water roll off their backs! No, even worse, they probably give Fate the twice-over and comment on how last season her shoes are, peppering their language with ‘That’s hot!’ and ‘Loves it!’ Why? Surely, I would have been more gracious with Fate’s kindness, had this only been bestowed upon me.

(Note to self: STOP watching The Simple Life or self’s brain will go simple, and apart from marking an unbearable loss to the human race, would guarantee self a reserved place at the Hill.)

ENTIRELY FICTICIOUS SCENARIO: Am trying to imagine self at an A-list party in Ms Hilton’s Manolos, which a. don’t fit, b. are too high, and c. don’t go with what I’m wearing. In addition I am constantly looking around nervously because I don’t know anyone, everyone’s drunk (or worse!), someone who looks suspiciously like Mr Colin 'irritating' Farrell is sliding up to me, accessorised with cigarette-in-mouth, beer bottle in one hand and an upcoming thrashy actress (utterly eluded by talent) draped across his other arm. GAAH!

Verdict: Nightmare.

(See what I mean about the Hill now.)

Voice of sane/ adult part of self’s personality (obviously an insignificantly small part of self): Has she gone and totally lost it now?

Self replying to sane/ adult part of self’s personality: No, you git! And will you stop making me feel guilty for everything? I mean a girl deserves a little fun, right? Anyway. I have not lost it.

Actually, I’ve found it! I now know how Fate is going to make everything up to me: I am going to win today’s Super 5 draw.

Sane/ adult part of self’s personality, holding phone to metaphysical ear: Hello, directory enquiries? Yes, could you kindly give me the number of the Funny Farm on the Hill? That’s right. And make it quick for goodness sakes before she gets violent.

Self replying to sane/ adult part of self’s personality: Shurrrup!

Generally I am not really in favour of buying tickets to lotteries, etc because even when I do, I never win! But today it occurred to me to buy tickets for the draw. I felt a very strong special draw to the ticket booth and therefore I have bought two tickets, with a similar selection of numbers – because I was unsure whether Fate instructed me to take a 4 or a 14 – so basically, I thought best to play it safe.
Tonight, when I win the Super 5 draw my life will change. I will drive around in a Hum Vee, wearing only Calvin Klien, Vera Wang, Gucci and Donna Karen over La Perla! Yesss… Cannot wait.

Sane/ adult part of self’s personality, whispering: Boys and Girls check our site for tomorrow’s post: 'How come I didn’t win?'

Long lost friends

Once upon a time I had a childhood friend. We went to the same school, and we used to have parties and go to each other’s houses and everything. And I always thought of her as a little pretty doll who had magically managed to come alive.

Then we grew up, went to different schools and took different paths. In other words we fell out of touch.

- How is that possible on such a small rock like Malta?

- I don't know. I'm just telling you what happened.

Admittedly I am quite certain that had I been more outgoing and self-assured a few years back, when I saw her at one of my favourite Paceville haunts I might have just gone up to her to say hi. But I felt awkward. So I didn’t.

Sometimes it’s not what you do that really gets to you. It’s what you didn’t do and what could have been. ‘What if?’ – that is definitely the most frightening concept ever! Because it means that you closed a door on an opportunity, shutting it out of your life forever. And more often than not, the postman does only ring once. And sometimes when he does, you’re not at home and your special delivery package gets lost forever.

Not having said ‘hi’ (that damn monosyllabic word) to my childhood friend - that will be, alas, one of the few things which I will live to regret. So much of our childhood friendship could have been reminisced… we could have stayed in touch… wudda, cudda, shudda…

Years later I heard, by manner of the all-knowing grapevine, that she suffered a tragedy in the family. Once this news had been confirmed I sent her a card, complete with my return address and contact details. Weeks, months passed by and I never received anything from her. I figured that she wasn’t ready, secretly expecting a note, an sms or an email from her, one day. Time passed and… nothing. I wasn’t surprised. To be honest, I didn’t even take it personally. I just figured that it was too difficult for her to talk about it just yet.

And then it happened. An apparition.

Last week, on my way home from work I glanced at someone who looked familiar, who reminded me of someone I knew. It was like a dream, where you know who you’re dreaming of, but can’t quite put your finger on the identity of the other person.

And then our eyes met. It was her. She looked like a porcelain doll, fragile and pretty. We stopped in our tracks. I think I even stopped breathing for a few seconds, out of shock. But as soon as she realised who I was she turned her head. And I just stood there.

Again I figured that she wasn’t ready.

Then something gripped the pit of my stomach and I suddenly felt the urge to chase after her, find her and tell her how sorry I am about everything. But then the vagrant look in her eyes haunted me. I stood planted to the ground contemplating her look, the very vision of her.

Should I have stopped? What if…

After all what would I tell her? Was I going to ask her what she’s been up to? Is she seeing anyone lately? Was I going to tell her about the last disastrous date I went on? Or about my blog?

We are not best friends. And although I swear that I really wanted to help her, I couldn’t think of anything I could do to make one little bit of difference in her life.

Some words are better left unsaid.

And perhaps, after all I am the one who’s not ready.

I still hope however, that she does get in touch with me. And I hope that when she does, I’ll be ready.

Hiatus

I just realised that I accidentally went on a hiatus - I didn't mean to not blog for so long, but I was unwell, then I was sick (as in sick and tired) then I was confused and now, I think I am back to square one.

Ergo entire worth of self's spiritual quest has evaporated into the great nothingness of the universe.

Humph!

Well, I realised this when Troy - a newly acquired virtual friend of mine, dropped me an email wondering whether I had fallen off of the face of the planet or perhaps was in a coma. Fortunately, neither one nor the other has befallen me and I am alive and well.

Let's see... what happened in the past three and a half weeks? (In chronological order...)

1. Unfortunately I attended the funeral of a friend's baby daughter. Harrowing. Heartbreaking.

2. I came across three separate people who I hadn't seen in a while. As is usually the case in such occasions, each of them promised to call / SMS / email me to meet for coffee / dinner / a drink. Neither of them did. I hate it when people do that! It's so despicable that it should be illegal. This is why I referred to these guys as three separate people and NOT three friends.

3. I went through quite a bit of stress. I don't know why life gets like this, but mine does. I think that it is because I care too much about too many things. I never thought I would possibly think that there is something wrong with that, but lately I am altering my perception about lots of things and lots of people!

4. For the first time since I've known him, my Zen Master (slash mentor slash whatever - who I never previously mentioned in my blog, although he is quite an inspiring figure in my life!) has not been able to shed any significant light into my bleak mood. Perhaps, as he would indubitably say, I am not being receptive enough! Hmmm... I soooo hate it when he's right, just like that! I find it so annoying!

5. The Pope died. I am not a particularly fanatic religious person, but I did so like Wojtyla. Apart from his role as leader of the Roman Catholic Church, I thought that his life journey was amazing and inspirational! I don't think that I should be saying this, but I'm going to anyway... I wonder what Dan Brown, author of the infamous and ill-written Da Vinci Code (no, I am NOT going to link to his site or his book, if you want more info, just Google them!) would have to say about this Pope's death and his funeral. My blood reverses course and my brain ceases at the very thought that he might come up with some other spoon-fed narrative style conspiracy-theory caper surrounding the death of the Pontiff! Eeek!

I was taking stock of my life, well the past three and a half weeks, really - and I just realised, that no matter what, I feel that I am at least two steps ahead of my previous post. Which, I suspect is a good thing. But at what price?

Have a great weekend and keep in touch!

Je ne sais pas!

I am still here….

Actually I don’t know whether that’s a good thing or not. But it’s a fact. A truth. (Now I’m starting the whole ‘is-the-truth –relative?’ diatribe in my head, which is already unhealthily perched on the precipice of an explosive end!)

Ok… am trying to regroup. Feeling a little confused. Ok maybe more than a little. I guess that this is what danger lies behind a woman contemplating, life – hers or otherwise! Even worse when the only answer to questions is ‘buqq… dunno.’ Yep, as in je ne sais pas!

And answers... they are so elusive! (But why am I so arrogant to believe that I can answer universal questions which have plagued the mighty brains of Aristotle, and the like?)

GAAAAH! am getting too frustrated even thinking about all this again! There was a point to this post (for a change!)... I'm sure of that!

Oooh! Yes… I forgot. In between asking questions (i.e. Why? Why ME? Trust me - not good…) and hunting down answers which are as fleeting as ghosts I have been:

- Totally neglecting Project 1 – so I am going to have to make up for it by staying at home this weekend, and the next, and the next, ad nauseum. Bummer.

- Reading like mad - finished Hemmingway’s For Whom the Bell Tolls, Helen Fielding’s Olivia Joules and the Overactive Imagination, and Anna Maxted’s Behaving Like Adults. (I know… don’t say anything… the term escapism is screeching in my ears, like nine inch nails grating across a blackboard!)

- Working with some steam on Project 2, although I am not entirely satisfied with it, I think that this month will put an impressive mark (in manner of epiphanicial catalyst) on this project. Tell you more at a later stage. (Although, also blatant escapism – perhaps escapissim? Hmmm.)

- Project 3 is back on track after a disasterous spell! Why do I need all the answers, to everything? Perhaps I am just a girl. A girl with a blog.

Daqshekk! Am going to make some calming green tea …

Emergency

I have recently been writing poetry with more frequency and intensity. I have dabbled with free verse for a number of years, much like a blind man would dabble with oils on canvas. But following my haiku stint, which is still going strong, i have taken up free verse with some more vigour.

Today, I am in a very weird, almost perturbed mood, and I wrote this:


Emergency

In solitude,
I need
the edge,
wild and dangerous,
and alive.

A life
of trysts
and
adventures
haunts my dreams
in wake
and
sleep.

Clutching
at my desk,
to survive
the mundane
trying to be
calm.

Useless bloody mantras.

Feigning
calm,
contained
anger
bubbles and boils
and
boils bubbles
in the ulcer-pierced
cauldron
of my
stomach.

I want out!

‘Excuse me, sir.
Which way’s the exit?
Tell me, please,
please
tell me
now.

This is an emergency!’



Fortunately I am meeting a friend for coffee, so that should sort out the sullen mood!