A Lack of Inspiration [Part The One] …
Otherwise entitled, Answering the Questions …
Or, Because Nothing Interesting Happened At Work Today I can Spend Time On This.
I try not to ‘do’ regret. Or, I say that I don’t ‘do’ it but in actuality I have quite a few regrets. They’re all rather trivial though, and if life hadn’t taken the turns that it did then I wouldn’t be where I am today. I don’t let regrets control my entire existence, unless I’m feeling melancholy and then I might regret that phase of disheartened sexuality, or the night I didn’t call the police, or that letter that I didn’t send. Life is too short for regrets, but there are glimpses of them within the pages of my life.
I have no idea where the faery disappears to. The stars replenish themselves on champagne cocktails in an Enid Blyton book. Maybe she dines with the queen when she’s not here. And you have your own faery – she lives somewhere in your house, but you have yet to find her. One day she’ll pop out and say a cheery Hello!
I don’t get rid of religious zealots. I have a feisty red-haired friend who happily does that for me. She does it when I’m not there, telling them to piss off and leave me alone. I get angry when she does this because I desperately need them to talk to me so I can write my dissertation. The fact that they pray with/for me is by-the-by and something I can live with. Bad feisty red-haired friend.
I’ve almost finished reading Wicked. I have eight pages left to read. I found it hard to begin with but once I found my feet I fell in love with the whole shebangles. It’s made me laugh and cry, think and argue [with myself, in my head]. The word chortle crops up too many times, but I can handle this. I used to want those shoes but now I think I’d rather not have them. They are far too troublesome. Now I want to read more about Oz.
[incidentally, i recommend the book to everyone]
I took the album out of the sleeve because I used to have the sleeve on my wall. By having it on my wall I could gaze adoringly at Wendy and Nick. If you find the actual album please put it back [no matter, I have it on tape anyway]. Perhaps you also have my Sid Vicious album sleeve that may also be missing the vinyl? I’d like the album because it has his mum, and Nancy’s mum saying bad things about how corrupt the partners of their children are.
I will only see Howl’s Moving Castle if you come with me. It will make up for the fact that I am sad I was one of the last people to know – Daniel knew. Even Daniel’s mum knew. I suspect that Andrew’s mum knew too. And his sister. I didn’t. This is what niggles me.
Everything changed the day I became a survivor and not a victim. Or maybe it changed the day I blossomed. Or perhaps it was the lonesome trip to foreign climes. Joining Match.com could have been the day everything changed, the day I realised my mum loved me no matter what, or that moment when I looked after the cigarettes of the ‘hard’ kids. Maybe nothing’s changed yet. Maybe everything has and I just don’t realise.
I might like fondling women’s breasts. But I don’t think I’d like much else about being a man. Oh, peeing standing up. I definitely wouldn’t like having to pay for everything – *grin*.
Tough Love? In the right circumstances, and with an understanding of the limits, and the child’s [or adults] best interests at heart, then yes, I advocate it. I think that the nature of the person that is being dealt with is something that needs to be thoroughly understood though. We’re all different, and what might work for me might not work for you. This is the problem with the world at large, the belief that we all need to be dealt with in the same way. The day that it’s understood we’re all unique will be the day that we can start living harmoniously.
And so say I.
And finally, of course the man with twelve parakeets suffers with social problems. But they’re quirkily inept social problems. And without knowing his background, his love and state of care for the parakeets, then I really feel unable to comment more.
Bet you can’t wait for [Part The Two]?
With grateful thanks.