Tree of Blessings

I have decided to make a Tree of Blessings.
And will have a think about what blessings in my life I could add to it,
Counting my blessings is something I often forget.

And yes, I would

...and yes, I would bring you a rainbow, and I would kiss you on the Moon, and I would catch you a cloud, and write a Haiku, I would die two deaths, and I would sell my soul for you

...but I can't see you tonight, because I am working.
Sorry.

Thought of the day

There are so many things I wish I could say or do or have, but social constraints make it impossible. It is so frustrating sometimes, not being able to externalise emotions. I often wonder if I could have had more in life - if only I could have said or asked.

Random

I want to fall in love.....
and not get hurt

Memories

Ok so today I had a fabulous surprise, getting in touch with somebody from my long-forgotten (or repressed) childhood.
Hail, wonders of the internet and social networking sites.
For a moment I was back there, in that space and time, memories rushing in, images, colours, smells and tastes, a whirlwind of feelings, a vortex.
Last time I visited the places of my childhood was about a year ago, when I was on a trip to my home country. A night of 'Whilst you are here, pick your soul up and take it back with you'. It never wanted to leave there. My soul is still roaming the streets of my childhood, in a sort of a parallel universe that only memories can give birth to, where there is an eternal hot summer afternoon, smelling of dust, and youth, and grazed knees, vanilla ice-cream and linden trees in blossom.
So yes, my new old friend, the one who took me there again tonight, my soul is still there, and I beg you, if you see it please look after it.

Revelations

First revelation: Money can buy everything. Including happiness.
Second revelation: You can't develop into a screwed up individual with an inferiority complex and a morbid tendency to depression, unless you had a screwed up childhood full of abuse.
Third revelation: Some people were born to be loved. Some people were just born.
Fourth revelation: Beautiful, good looking people are better liked and more successful.
Fifth revelation: Sometimes God has a sick and twisted sense of humour.
Sixth revelation: I will need to elaborate.....

The Bench of Answers

During my youth, I used to go for nice walks into a lovely little park in our neighbourhood. This park was like an oasis in the middle of a bustling capital. And often on my own, or accompanied by the friends of my childhood or by my sister, we used to walk our worries in this park. When we were upset, or we had a dilemma or any issue that needed sound counsel or a solution, our steps were heading towards this park.
Anyway, the strangest thing was, every time we used to stop and take a seat on one of the benches in this park, someone would appear within minutes, and they would ask to sit next to us, engage in polite conversation with us, and within this conversation they would give answers or insight to our problems. These people were sometimes frail old pensioners, or young mothers with babies in the pushchair, or even couples out on a stroll. As soon as the 'answer' was delivered, they would get up, say good-bye and leave.
I used to call this odd experience 'The Bench of Answers' - for obvious reasons - and what a fantastic experience that used to be!
And how I wish I could have now the worries of my youth, instead of today's.

I am worth more than some pebbles

Many many years ago, when I was just a very little girl, I remember I was out playing with a friend of mine, on a glorious summer afternoon. We got some pebbles from somewhere, and God knows what game we were playing, however we had a number of pebbles each. My friend, bless her, single child and therefore with a slight egocentric streak, demanded I gave her my pebbles too. But they were mine!! And it happened that my father was walking home and he went past us, so I ran to him and told him, through tears, about my endangered pebbles. My father (God bless his soul and rest him in peace) looked at me and told me: 'Then give them to her, if she wants them that badly. You are worth more than some pebbles'. Which I did, wholeheartedly, because I felt superiour in my kindness. I know it sounds daft, but that memory has been following me throughout my life, and although the pebbles of my childhood later turned into more valuable things, I have always remembered my father's advice.
The reason this memory came back to me again, is that recently I won an award at work, and part of the prize was a modest amount of money. However, some people would never ever grow up and they still demand other's pebbles, so they are causing a lot of grief at the moment, and it sickens me to see them like this.
So this morning I have remembered what my good and wise father said once to me: 'I am worth more than some pebbles'.
Thank you father - and I hope you are proud of me.

KPIs

If you are a working individual, you probably heard of KPIs. Everything in this world these days revolves around KPIs. Key Performance Indicators this, Key Performance Indicators that. Meet your KPIs and you are fine (you have your job for another day - or two). Fail your KPIs and there is trouble.
Anyway, I was thinking the other day, do Gods have also KPIs? And what about the angels; or the demons? I mean, just imagine, being a God, and having strict KPIs regarding miracles for example. An apparition there, minimum 95% visibility, minim 90% credibility. Followers rising between 85% on a poor month and up to 99% during good months. Or for angels - rate of souls saved, accidents avoided, clinical deaths returned to life: semestrial forecast within 95% and 97% to meet the KPI. If KPI is not met, then obviously the angel falls. So here's the demons' department: how many souls led to perdition? How many poor sinners boiling in the eternal fires of Hell? Well, if you are a demon worth its salt, better keep the figures up (minim 95% that is).
Why don't we have KPIs for how many smiles we should offer to random people in a day?


Post Scriptum: Talking of performance indicators - if the sunshine in this country would have KPIs to meet, it failed already.

Doctors and Nurses

Do you remember, when we were kids - we used to play 'doctors and nurses'?
And despite our young age, we naturally managed to introduce the faintest shade of naughtiness in our otherwise innocent game.
But now, when I am older and wiser (as the saying goes...), I am wondering. If the 'doctors' always went to give a more or less thorough examination (wink, wink), then why were they doing so to the nurses?! Usually doctors examine patients. Philosophically speaking, if a nurse is being examined by a doctor (ahem), then she would become a patient - for the sake of the argument.
So why wasn't the game called 'doctors and patients'??

PS: On a different note, it happens that I work with both - doctors AND nurses. And I like to play games too. So damn, I am in the wrong job then! I should train to become at least a nurse.

Home

Funny concept, home.
What is home for some is hell for others.
Where is home, anyway? They say, 'home is where your heart is'. So ok, is home inside my ribcage? I don't think so...
I think home is a place in your head. Or in your imagination, let's just say. The place that has nothing to do with time/space reality.
Home is a nice little thought, kept alongside Santa Claus, Tooth Fairy, Perfect Relationship, Ideal Job, Beautiful Life, Endless Love and the like.

The Importance of being Goth

As you probably know, about 6 months ago I came out. As a Goth. Yeah, so far I have been in denial, a closet-Goth as they say. Anyway, 6 months have passed and now I am the proud owner of a new wardrobe (any excuses, after all) and a new social 'label' attached to my good self.
There are certain advantages and (of course) disadvantages of being a Goth these days. In no particular order:
1. You don't need to worry about (fake) tan anymore. If my legs are whiter than an aspirin tablet, as they haven't seen sunshine for about 2 years (well, i DO live in the UK, after all?!) - so what? White is cool, pale is the word for a Goth. And no more orangey fake tan either: woohoo!
1. a) You don't need to spend any more money on blushers.
1. b) You will start ditching your old make-up paraphernalia and acquire monochrome products, to include, of course, ghostly-white powder, black eye-shadow and eye-liner (wholesale, as you go through one eye-liner every session), black lipstick and black nail-polish. Can be quite expensive to buy everything in one go, but you've got to look the part!
2. Blame pretty much everything on the Goth-ness: after a rather rough night, your friend is telling you 'OMG, you really look like Death!' - well, D'OH! Or your make-up is smudged: of course, this is part of the melodramatic look that's part of being a Goth... etc etc etc.
3. Your tights are laddered - forget about being paranoid and dashing to the nearest shop to buy a new pair; if your jeans are torn, your Doc Martens are dusty, nail varnish chipped - worry not: looking scruffy can be classed as Goth chic...
4. Colour coordination hysteria is a thing of the past. Black and all its shades will never clash with each other.
5. Getting ready to go out can take less time and effort: what to wear?? Well, just open the damn wardrobe and something (black) will fall on you. Do not give it a second thought - as a Goth, you have the guts and the style to carry everything off. You would look stunning even in a (black) potato sack.
5. a) Locating a certain garment in your (black) wardrobe can sometimes be tricky. Finding a needle in the haystack = finding a top in a Goth's wardrobe. Go instead for tip mentioned at point number 5.
6. Unless you opt for the Lolita look, forget about killer shoes (ie, shoes that kill you). Vote goes to: Big boots, 'kick-ass' boots, Doc Martens - stay comfy, stay cool.
6. a) Knee-length Doc Marten boots (I am a proud owner) will take ages to lace up. Not a good idea to wear them on quick 'dates', when you have to take them off and put them back on in a hurry. Some guys will also find this 'hold on, only 10 eyelets to go' business rather off-putting.
6. b) You can now give the saying 'Goths do it in Doc Martens' a new twist :-)
7. No need to act all nicey-nice if you don't feel like it. If you want to be a moody cow, get on with it. Goths are by definition a species apart and lesser beings will never-ever understand them and their intricate drama.
8. You get used to people staring at you wherever you go. Offer them the oportunity to take a picture, challenge them to see if you will indeed appear in the photo, they will leave you alone.
8. a) You can easily fob off pretty much any sales-rep; with a cheeky answer, you will frighten the socks off him/her. (I was in town the other day, and a rep with a badge and a clipboard stopped me to ask if I buy stuff online. I said to her sternly, whilst looking fixedly in her eyes: 'I only use the power of the internet for my devil-worshipping purposes'. She mumbled something and let me pass. Succes.)
8. b) If you go into 'posh' shops or restaurants, don't expect a good service. A snotty waiter or a Barbie-brained shop assistant will unwittingly dread that you lower the tone of the venue. However, fair-play to those who treat you with respect and consideration (no gory cheeky answers to them).
9. Hair styles 'accidents' - cut, colour, or anything else that went wrong in the process. Thank Goth, everything goes (ha ha, geddit?).
10. On a very dark note: you are always ready to attend a funeral!

Livin' the dream

I seem to live in a world of mirrors and smoke and - I don't know about you, but I am seriously starting to doubt my own sanity. I sometimes find it hard to know the truth from the dream and I can't always tell what's real.
Once upon a time my mind was a blank sheet of paper and I had to learn about life and all the nice surprises it had in store for me. I had to learn about lies, about mean souls, about falsity and hypocrisy. I had to learn to suffer, to endure, I had to know about meaningless affairs and hurt egos. I now look back and ponder, what was real and what was dream?
Sometimes my dreams seem more substantial than the actual life, sometimes life seems more frightening than the most horrifying nightmares.
Living in a world of empty promises (like empty colourful shells) is often good fun, but not for long, perhaps it is my Id that's playing up, I don't know.
I was thinking last night (with horror) that probably I will never realise when I will have lost my power to reason. The rice krispies don't talk to me (yet) but when they will do, perhaps I should get really worried, not because they will be talking to me, but because I don't actually have any in the house.
Perhaps I am only a brain in a vat (just like in that example used in the Sceptic Theory) - in a lab somewhere, and a mad (haha) doctor is transmitting via numerous connectors all the information so I live a dream... the dream of being alive. And all my life, as I said, is just a fantasy, just a world of dreams (good or bad), of mirrors and illusion.
I don't think I would mind that much, after all I would get to live a dream, even in this lousy sense of the word. And that, I think, it is the nearest I can get to it.

Forgive me Father, for I have sinned

Forgive me Father, for I have sinned. Although your forgiveness won't make a great deal of difference.

I will never go to Heaven.

I will probably slip off the stairway halfway there.

I am a sinner. Heaven doesn't like sinners.

My temper is short, I have no patience and I am incapable of hope. I despise some people and sometimes I find it difficult to forgive. I am too much fascinated by the darkness of this world.

I find it impossible to put my trust into anything and anybody. My sarcasm hurts and I use it often to slice through people's egos.

I like to treat mankind with the same reverence they show me - none in most cases.

I am constantly suspicious of everything that seems too good. I doubt everything and look for hidden meanings and motives. (Perhaps in Heaven I would keep asking, ok so where's the catch? What's in the small print?)

That's settled, then. Forgiveness or not, Father - I will see you in Hell. I am already there, anyway. Meet you by the main fire in fifteen minutes. I will wear a white carnation on my lapel. That is just in case you can't recognise my smug face.

Random thought

...Did this ever happen to you?
Someone really gets on your nerves and you can't stand them - and they do something nice for you; and you feel guilty?

To blog, or not to blog

Well, I have received my first feedback on this blog. 'So what's with the rant?' the feedback said.
Erm.
I don't know... I'm just off on one.
(Look, I really don't understand you, people. You complain that I never let anyone know about what's in my head, and when I do, you ask me why??
Has anybody asked an artist why they've painted a sunset, or a poet why they have put love into rhymes?)
I like to talk and share my thoughts...
I want to tell you all about my existentialist and annoying question, 'What is beyond the limits of this Universe?' Really now, this bugged me all day - want to join me? Well then, the key words to get you set and ready are: infinite, how it all started, who started it, how far is the infinite stretching, time/space continuum, Big Bang,....

Or perhaps you prefer reading something about Big Brother instead. Ooh, I don't know about that, mate. You're on your own there.

Biker's Conundrum

Today we decided to take the Harley out for a spin. Lovely ride, through peaceful country lanes on a Saturday afternoon! However, at some point we made the executive decision that a break (and a cuppa) would be necessary - to rest all those sore bits one tends to get after a while on a bike. So we parked in this indefinite little place in the middle of nowhere, in search for a tea-room.
Now let's put you in the picture: imagine two people clad in black leather, sporting grinders, bandanas and shades. Two completely harmless people in need of a cup of tea. I think we caused quite a stir in that little place. Our presence did not command 'respect' as such - I think the locals regarded us rather testily. I know the girl who sold us the two teas looked at me in surprise when I smiled at her. Two old dears avoided sitting at our table, and chose another table (already crowded with other, ahem, 'normal' people).
It made me think though - why?
We don't carry guns or knives. We wouldn't say boo to a goose. We know to say Hello, Please and Thank you. We don't belch and we don't do drugs. We don't even have a tattoo, for crying out loud! We are ordinary people - who every now and then enjoy a ride on a purring Harley Davidson...
Would you be more comfortable with me dressed in all pinky fluffy girly-girly stuff and my hubby dressed in a suit instead of black leather? What is it that's making us what we really are, a) the pinky-fluffy stuff/the suit or b) the leathers - none of the above.
We are simply what we are and who we are, regardless of what we use to cover ourselves with, or the means of transport we choose to travel from A to B.