trashcan

2011-06-30T16:44:00.003+02:00

Today I am going to spend time writing about Maltese driving because even though I have been driving for 8 years now, I still can't get used to it. I believe it is a phenomenon I should report about so that in years to come people will have a source of facts that explains what the immense number of pot holes and road signage are used for.. a bit like our Cart Ruts.

For a Malteser, I drive long distances every day, and I consider myself a bit of an expert in the field. If driving where a martial art (I would argue that it nearly is), I would be a black belt.. In the long hours I spend in my car I have had time to develop a "Beginners Guide to Driving in Malta". Here is a little summary:

Dear Tourist, if you are planning to come to Malta and drive, we recommend that you pack your belongings but leave behind your common sense, eye sight, logic, manners, knowledge of road rules, fear for precious life and limbs, sense of direction and hope.
There are two major factors that you need to constantly keep in mind in order for you to be able to cover the little distances planned for your trip: The state of the roads and the state of the drivers. Let's start with the first one: the famous Maltese roads. Many have tried, but few have succeeded to look at and obey Maltese road signs, the amount of which will surpass your wildest immagination. In a stretch of 100m road you might find yourself having to first drop speed to 40km/h (and this is a bypass, not a village street), then increase it back to a comfortable 60km to then drop it to 40km/h again. That is, if you are lucky. If you are unlucky, the 60km relief will not be there. You will also find that these signs change from one day to the next.. No one knows what determains these changes but legend has it that it is the whirlwinds that form in pot holes on particularly windy days. These changes, altough frequent, have never as yet been recorded on video.. the sneeky mongrels.
What is difficult about looking at signs while driving? I imagine you are asking. Well, try keeping track of road signs while also avoiding pot holes and consequently, punctures. Precisely! Imposibble. And that's what you will be doing for most of the time here. Well done for choosing such an exciting holiday.
Ok, that was driving on the empty roads. The next ingredient is the drivers; maltese, and dangerous. STOP signs, indicators and roundabout rules are japanese for them. The only rule here is to break rules and scream at anyone who tries to do the same, to your detriment. Then, if you are female or tourist, you get targeted. So be prepared for a lot of negative attention. If you are female AND tourist.. just don't even bother coming here. Life insurance does not cover you if you commit suicide.

Welcome to Malta!

Godinisidence-a series of

2011-05-30T00:55:00.001+02:00

What bigger proof that God is there, watching over me?

2011-05-24T20:48:00.001+02:00

Can we pretend that airplanes
In the night sky
Are like shooting stars?
I could really use a wish right now

Chooks

2011-05-21T17:24:00.000+02:00

Cicra was shaking as she read the invite. The evil forces where getting cleverer by the minute.. so much so, that now even SHE, with her IQ score being at par with that of a bat that never slept upside down, could notice it.

The invite said Cicra was to go to a chooks' party. Clearly, to put her mentally at ease. It said there was going to be food. Clearly, to keep her hands busy (her brain was always on standby so no need to devise any complicated concoctions to alienate that).And, because only chickens where allowed, her faithful, cleverer, stronger assistant Le Mon, had to stay behind. CLEARLY, to strip her of any possible survival.

It also said that failure to attend would result in Super Cicra being put last on the list of threats for the evil forces and Cicra would not have that! Her pride and reputation was at stake here!

3 hours later Cicra emerged from her cave-like (in the cluttered, smelly, damp decor, not in the geographical placement) habitat dressed in a lime-green frill shirt, and what looked like a back-firing space-shuttle of a skirt. Bright red lipstick finished the opera that put Munch's SCREAM in an eclipse shadow.

Si l e n c e . . .

2009-12-24T00:55:00.003+01:00

There is a particular moment of the day were you can simply hear silence . This moment is coloured by the lack of the sound of your breadthing, of your heartbeat, of your thoughts. It is a slice of time that is past as soon as it is present. It occurs when the mind stops thinking and obviously is gone exactly when you stop and think about it.

It is this very silence that drives people crazy. It is the very sound of lonliness, emptiness, cold; all at one intense go .

Beware Amaranth E123

2009-12-08T09:06:00.004+01:00

This morning I was sitting in front of a cup of tea, coughing my chest off and looking through online newspapers. I have tried a number of medicines for the cough but it still persists.. probably because it is some sort of allergy; not rare at this time of the year.

Anyhow, I was thinking of my latest, failed attempt of medicine, which I bought over the counter from a pharmacy, and I decided to give it a second attempt. It sat near my laptop while I sipped some more tea and read some more of the endless entaglement of political debate; WHEN, the contents of the medicine caught my eye. Now, very few people probably ever bother to look through a medicine's list of ingredients because, well, medicine is supposedly invented to make you better, not worse right? This time round, however, some Es in the list caught my eye and since I am aware of the danger of a good number of them, I typed the first one into my search engine. It was Benzoate E211. Basically it is what I expected. There is a danger if certain conditions happen to occur to the medicine, it is used in famous soft drinks and is being phased out, it does a minimal damage but if not taken regularly, it should be ok. Nothing so tragic in that.

The next one was the big bombshell. Amaranth E123. Apparently this chemical is used in many jellies, cake mixes, soups, shrimps etc.

"It appears to cause allergic and/or intolerance reactions, similar to nettle rash, particularly amongst those with an aspirin intolerance or asthmatics. can provoke asthma, eczema and hyperactivity; it caused birth defects and foetal deaths in some animal tests, possibly also cancer

.Not recommended for consumption by children.

It is banned in Norway, United States, Russia and Austria (see E129) with a very restricted use in France and Italy (caviar only)."

(http://www.ukfoodguide.net/e123.htm)

WOW.. it is banned in the sensible part of Europe, it can cause birth defects, possibly also cancer.

And then I went into the information leaflet to look for THIS information, well, there's a paper missing... a paper which probably hasn't even been printed yet.

The argument against me would be that you only take very little traces of this E123 for it to be harmful. But how the hell do they know how much I love jelly and prawns. And apparently there are no concrete results as to the dangers of this substance.

The medicine is already in the bin, obviously.

the chicken or the egg?

2009-11-09T21:49:00.004+01:00

Which came first.. the chicken or the egg?

Before I start, I have to make it clear that I do not have the answer, but I have the explanation, which might prove to be a bit more helpful...

It all started when I forgot my mobile in my car.. in the garage. (Be advised, this story is true, but very unlikely) It sat there for hours. (Also, be advised, this is not going to be about my mobile.) And when I finally remembered that I own a mobile, that I hadn't heard it for hours and that I was started to suffer from it's absence, I engaged in trying to remember where I had abandoned it. I trailed back my actions and finally remembered it sat, lonely as the moon, down there.

(Also, remember I had spent a whole day using my voice, and I was coughing slightly) So obviously, I went to get it. Now, I was in my socks, and I had to go down through an outside stairs, and it was raining. 1+1 = I wet my feet.

And from here, a trail of possible thoughts raced. I saw myself sick in bed, with broncitis. I saw the doctor, and that doctor asked me if I could remember what could have possibly triggered the broncitis. And I saw myself trying to think back to today.. but the memories were blurred. What came first, the cough or the wet feet?

Well, because at a certain distance of time things blend in, and blur until they become one jigsaw puzzle piece in the immense puzzle that is our memory.

So, the cough or the wet feet came first? I'm still getting the cold so it doesn't make much difference.

And.. the chicken or the egg?

As long as I can eat scrambled eggs on toast, hard boiled eggs with bread fingers and cakes, and pizza and buns, and sauteed chicken in peanut sauce and all that is the culinary world of the egg and the chicken, I couldn't care LESS.

period.
*cough* *cough*

un appreciated adventures

2009-11-01T22:38:00.002+01:00

Episode 2:

Again I was sitting at table, relaxing, inhaling the evening air, watching the people, bla bla bla. Still insisting (uselessly) that salads have less calories than normal plates , I had ordered a salad. Now this salad had floors/storeys. At this point I was only able to see and inspect the topmost layer, which, believe me, looked delcious. Further inspections showed that it also TASTED delicious, this top floor. But curiosity made the cat want to differ, and so I innocently delved into the next floor, mixed salad.

It went something like this:

*munch* *munch* *munch* *CRUNCH* *munch*.

My mind quickly recalled the list of supposed ingredients of this salad, and none was supposted to CRUNCH. A shiver ran down my spine as a very long array of possible producers of this CRUNCH now flashed very clearly. Finally I simply blamed my imagination and proceded to intaking another lot.

This time, it went something like this:

* CRUNCH* *muCRUNCH* *CRUNCH* *CRUNCH*.

yukk. I spit it out. It felt like sand, but there was nothing in there. I could se nothing that remotely looked like sand. And no, it wasn't a particularly hard time of ground pepper. It didn't taste like pepper.

What does one do in such occasions. Drop the fork and stop eating. No I didn't complain, even though I should have because I just wanted to leave.

Again, no gran Finale.

un appreciated adventures

2009-11-01T22:02:00.003+01:00

Episode 1:

Was sitting at table, eating, enjoying a calm afternoon and relaxing while a slow hussle and busstle of customers came and went. All was next to perfect until my gaze fell on something black that could have easily been mistaken for a pattern on the tiles hadn't:

a) the tiles been completely white
b) the thing been proud owner of 6 legs
c) the said thing been moving

Mr. C was taking a stroll because like me, he seemed to enjoy the lovely afternoon-turning-into-night air. It moved around casually, admiring what was offered for dinner, artfully avoiding feet and obviously giving that extra attention to me.. by now turned completely green. Because, I was not only faced with the fear of a very fast, unpredictable, huge, black insect but also with the fear of the food I was eating. The reason being very obvious: Mr. C. had made his grand entrance through the kitchen door, the place were my up-until-a-few-minutes-before delicious plate was prepared!

From here, the most logic thing to make.. raise your frightened finger and bring Mr. C. to the attention of a waiter. For an extra precaution I added a "squash it" with the logical "There's a cockroach over there." The waiter, most politely, knodded and walked off. Incredibly not coming back. By this time me and Mr. C. had put aside all differnces (except that where his feet were fixed on the ground, and mine were skillfully raised at a safe height), put aside all formalities and were on personal basis.

Don't expect a climax other than our exchanging email address, because there isn't going to be one. The waiter continued busying himself with the customers and ignoring Mr. C. I stood, paid and walked out.

*Fullstop, start a new line*

once upon a time..

2009-10-20T17:13:00.003+02:00

... a loooong loooong time ago, when the skies were bluer and the grass greener; there existed a gadget that eased everyone's life by so much. It was indespensable for the peaceful flow of the life and everyone used this simple yet indespensable object: THE INDICATOR. Many nowadays have never heard of this mysterious word, and those who are familiar with it, know only the rumour fogging its existance. The indicator is indeed existinct nowadays because an evil witch one day cursed it with incredibly base/ shallow/ stupid/ (...) users. And that, my dear friends, saw the end of it.

The devastation that this vanish-ment has caused is endless. The users.. the dear drivers, are sinking deeper and deeper in the witch's curse and the roads are doomed to perish in the fires of hell.

Please, prepare yourself for the worse, ideally buy a new car in order to break it better, study the oxfort dictionary of swear words, and amass onto the tarmac. May God be with you.

Dopo di te..

2009-10-19T22:46:00.005+02:00

se l'amore fosse un peso, vorrei essere una campionessa di pesi mondiali.
se l'amore fosse un profumo, sarebbe l'essenza dell'esistenza.
se l'amore fosse un colore, l'arcobaleno sarrebbe soltanto la sua ombra.
se l'amore fosse una stella, l'umanita' abiterebbe su essa.
se l'amore fosse un ora, sarebbe quella di un miglior' inizio.

e se l'amore non lasciasse cicatrici, forse la vita sarebbe piu' perfetta.

les femmes on the road..

2009-10-11T02:15:00.003+02:00

Why is it that many women are an incarnation of a half eaten banana, on the road? And why is it that no matter what men do, they will not ever get the same reputation?

Well, after plenty of enlightening experiences in the field, I have starting forming some sort of conclusions on the matter at hand. These conclusions have been aged skillfully in hours-long in traffic very early in the morning.

Let us start with men.. and by the end of this explanation, I will barely need to go over the women's one; it will already be clear. So, men do as many stupidities on the road as women; if not MORE. However, and this is the big but.. they do it and they are aware of it. They risk it and they enjoy it. You can see a man's satisfied grin when he speeds out of a side road and missing you by that much. They tease you with their risk-taking; and I would dare say even flirt with your car. In a few words, men are show offs.

Women are plainly, the exact opposite. Women do stupid things on the road just because stupidity mode is active at that particular time. Want proof? Look at a woman's face when SHE speeds out of a side road and missing you by that much. You are right! You can't see her face because she hasn't looked! .. because she didn't even realize she was doing something completely wrong (and completely against the law if we had to take this on a more serious level). And I warn you.. don't be surprised if when you honk the living hell out of your car horn at her, she starts verbally attacking you and calling you blind, and sending you, your mother and all your relatives for a trip around the world in 80 words.

And so,I bid you all goodnight, and good luck on the road..

of carnivors and men

2009-09-21T22:54:00.003+02:00

There's this alien film at the cinema. It looks scaaary..

.. but 90% of movies are scaaary for me so, its beyond the point. What is within the point is the following;

I was trying to think of a good excuse to convince myself I should stop eating meat; the real reasons being that it makes me fat quicker and that how they "grow" the meat today is not altogether too healthy. But the real reason did not stop me from eating it so plan B was to decieve myself with a fake reason. Now that I'm past that phase; yes, it was a stupid plan, but it actually led me to a really good reason why I (and everyone else for that matter) should stop eating meat.

Ok, Goodnight and see you at the next blog post.

Haha, no. Jokes apart. We eat meat, ie: we exterminate other creatures (and the only reason why they are not extinct is that we actually mass produce them so we can eventually exterminate them) because people believe the Survival of the Fittest Theory. Ok, fine. But that equation is nice and comfy because we are the fittest. The chickens that we eat cannot think on the same lines because, hey, they're not the fittest. So, thinking back about the movie, I put in aliens that are actually fitter than human beings into the equation, and surprise! the equation is no longer comfortable. If carnivor aliens had to come along, according to the equation that humans so carefully devised, they would have all the right in the world to eat us. And we would not have any "voce in capitolo". Terrifying and cringing to say the least.

Basically now I get the feeling that the Survival of the Fittest Theory is just a lame excuse that we invented to make us less guilty of killing other creatures.

For now its just a feeling/incling. I'll let it age for a while in my parking lot and see what turns up.. but its definitly some to CHEW ON ..

*munch*

peace ville

2009-09-20T03:47:00.003+02:00

I hadn't been there for months. Various are the reasons that led to this elimination of the place from my to-go-to list; however I needed to refresh my ardour towards these reasons and so, decided to pay peace a visit.

First thing that strikes when you are my age is that 90% of the humans present are younger than you, with the result that you start feeling old and crippled. Self confidence 0; PV 1

Second thing that strikes is that youngsters drink A LOT, and have no problem with being drunk, making a fool out of themselves etc etc. The culture today is that drink is good for socialization and that the more you drink the cooler you are. By the 5th drink you're chest freezer-cool. Seeing such things make me feel like our society is doing a complete mess out of the people that will pull the ropes in the very near future. Self confidence 0 , PV 2

Then you see the way people dress. First you start laughing at how absolutely inappropriatly dressed many people are. Unfortunately (for them) its the ladies that have the record in this contest; ranging from pure mis-match of style/fashion ignorance to dresses which would perfectly disguise as tee-shirts for their length, cleavages that steal the "Grand(our)" from the Grand Canyon and bare bellies on show like a pure-breed, white, Persian Chiuaua at a fish show. All this too many times hanging on (/ out of/ off) bodies which would do with a size or two MORE of clothes or bodies of not so minute dimensions. And then you wonder how sometimes women are considered objects. After wiping of the tears of laughter you start shedding tears of disgrace. I'm not really sure who should get the point here.

The rest is all men with desperate looks and desperate behaviour trying very hard to hook up girls with desperately lonely looks. Oh, and we can't forget the only too young boys and girls roaming around as if it were normal that at such a young age one goes and f**** up his/her life only to be able to boast about having been there at school. I would not be surprised to hear a "hello there miss" and a "can I not do my homework?.. I'll be too hung over tomorrow to bother.."

I'd really so much rather not see these things. Someone needs to start doing something about these situations.. soon.

*silence* PV wins the game.

One of those days

2009-08-24T19:57:00.003+02:00

Heh. One of those days is today. Today is one of those days. Odious, aimless, hot, long (too long) days. Monday. When the rest of the world is out doing something; generally work, and you are at home spending time thinking about your next feat. Things you should really do, not to feel miserable are: CHANGE OUT OF YOUR PYJAMAS, WASH YOUR TEETH, WAKE UP EARLY and DON'T PANIC. I tend to panic, and panic on such days leads to dispair. Oh, by the way, don't tell anyone about your dilemma/dispair/aimlessness because these people are the same people that have a day's work ahead of them and going over to them moaning about how relaxed you're going to be while they're working their arse off is not what I'd call insurable behaviour.

So far so good. Amongst the things you can do are the following:

- wash your car
- take a long bath, possibly reading a chapter or two while you're there
- watch a movie online
- go on You Tube and search for "stand up commedy". Dane Cook, Carlos Mensia, Jeff Dunham and so on and so forth.
- Put some cucumber slices on your eyes and while you're there, try to invent a nice fairytale with you as protagonist. You'll come to realise that as simple as they might sound, fairytales are mighty hard to make up and make sense. Please, don't be shocked when later you feel stupid that you were making up a fairytale.. with additional cucumbers on your eyes.
- take out your Memories Box and go through it. And your photo albums, and leaf through them.
- Go out, somewhere within walking distance (tssk, EVERYWHERE is within walking distance in Malta!), and buy something stupid and cheap; like a rubber or insect spray.
- Try on clothes, mix and match. Experiment some new combinates. You'll be surprised how much potential your wardrobe has.
- Cook something! A nice chocolate cake, or some blueberry buns. Njam.
- Go to the Dvd Rentals and rent a dvd. No, don't eventually watch it. Just go there and spend time searching for it.
- Drink a shandy on the roof of your house. Its important that you drink Shandy, not beer. You'll see why when you do.
- Go and have lunch somewhere relaxing. On. Your. Own.
- And for Dinner? Obviously.. SUSHI! :D

is that enough for a day? I think so. : )

Amen

it turns out that..

2009-08-23T01:04:00.005+02:00

It turns out that Prince Charmings exist, but they are oh so boringly perfect.

It turns out that sushi is delicious!

It turns out that life is short.

It turns out that life is short and complicated.

It turns out that life is short, complicated, but extremely simple to figure out.

It turns out that mothers are always right.

It turns out that good looks get you wherever you like.

It turns out that to look good you have to feel good.

It turns out that in life there will always be someone that is better than you, no matter how hard you try.

It turns out that all men have the same thing in mind..

It turns out that women like it that way, somehow.

It turns out that the harder you look for something, the less you are going to find it.

It turns out that even a silver stick has a dirty part.. nothing is perfect.

It turns out that life has very queer coincidences.

It turns out that that they are still coincidences.

It turns out that menopause is horrid on women.

It turns out that it is even worse for their husbands.

It turns out that younger sibblings are always the better off.

It turns out that the length of your legs is inversely proportional to the size of your brain.

It turns out that the answer to the ultimate question about life, the universe and everything IS 42.

It turns out that it is also the largest number you can use in Super 5, by a strange coincidence.

It turns out that life is fair after all.. €1,000,000 had to be split between 2 rather than 1 lucky winner.

It turns out that many women are arses when driving.

It turns out that this doesn't mean that men are good drivers.. on the contrary.

It turns out that whatever disress you might have, someone else is in a worse state than you.

It turns out that you start wondering who the poor guy is.

AMEN.

Ps, it turns out that these are the revelations of just one day.

Pause

2009-08-10T23:09:00.003+02:00

Ah.. life is stressful. Put aside all the work, relationships, chores, problems, fights, meals (heh), birthdays etc etc etc. You'd think that without all those, life would suddenly lighten up and feel better. Well, I am ready to bet whichever part of my body I have not yet betted in the past blogs that life would still be a pain in the lower regions of my back. Why? very simple. Because life minus all the stressful things leaves ...

life - stressful things = US

And us, ourselves, are also a source of stress. No one can deny this. We spend so much time and money and tears (at least I do) to look and feel good that probably, with another simple sum we'd realise that we are our greatest source of stress. It's so hard to not worry about what people think or will think about us. How we behave and look makes all the difference. It makes all the difference to me. If I don't feel good with how I look, my self esteem goes down the drain and out into the Pacific Ocean.

And all this brought my trail of thought to a curious stand. What do other people do when they are on their own? How do they behave? I mean, do people still sit neatly, leg on leg, backs straight, tummies in, boobs out? Doesn't anyone ever pick his nose or burp or fart? Because I don't ever (or almost never) hear or see anyone do these things in public. If so, there must be a great deal of stored, inflammable gas in houses everywhere, and the only things stopping it from catching fire are little green balls of dried snot stuck in the depths of everyone's noses!

I, for one, look how I am. If I am feeling ok , then I am looking ok. If I feel a disaster, than most probably I look like my wardrobe.. the inside of it. And this is irrelevant of where I am and with whom I am. So basically I burp and fart, but oh so very discreetly.. and very rarely somehow. But because I am always like that! No effort there. On the other hand, right now I am sitting leisurely on the sofa, legs outstretched, hair pulled up in a bun and wearing a shorts that is to the top what I am to Wee Wee Xplot 13 in some galaxy a gazzilion million light centuries away. I would NOT appear like this in public, even if public was the greengrocer guy. I am not saying that people should burp and fart and swear and shout in public like they do in the privacy of their homes. Because that shouldn't be done so often, even in the privacy of a home.

So, my suggestion is that even if life makes us wear another face and another character (and that's why they call it a bitch) we should always allow ourselves the time of being ourselves comfortably every single day. For those 30minutes, undo that tie, walk about in your underwear, ditch the heals, remove all the make up and just put on a smile. PAUSE and savour yourself in essence.

204 Italia Uno; Michale Buble in concerto..

2009-07-20T23:15:00.004+02:00

And again, that incling urge to grab a herd of thoughts and put them down on paper (or screen) before they go and graze elsewhere. Today's trail started, as usual, with something that has absolutely nothing to do with writing.. or rather, it has to do with writing, but not with thoughts, oh, anyway..

I am sitting on the sofa, its very hot, and I really don't feel like standing up and walking to the fan to switch it on. So I let it stand there, staring at me, blankly, like only a fan can do. The sofa is comfortable, and on the tv there's Michael Buble'. He's stunning an audience in New York. And what do you think ruined this moment? Hm, nothing really, but something did stear a little bit of irritation in my perfect moment; there on the screen, in that little, horizontal box with the channel number and the time, and the title of the programme, I see, written in bold print as if nothing were wrong, and as if grammer was just a myth similar to that of the minotour but more tragic, MICHALE BUBLE. Now, ok, I can close an eye for the missing apostrophe. But, can I close the other eye for completely ruining the melody to the sound of his name? Mikalej! I mean, they didn't have to write an essay about the poor guy, they just had to write his name! And still they wrote it wrong. *sigh* (and in the back of the back of my mind I am thinking, that mistake is typical of me...)

Ah, anyway, that was my anchor. The sudden inclination towards the two paragraphs I just finished. It's still hot. And I want to talk about happy endings. A romantic story, or a film can have a happy ending. One. Only. No matter how hard you try, the story has to end, just that once. Life, people, is thankfully not a story. It doesn't have to follow rules, and even if there were any rules, it would still proudly refuse to acknoledge their existance, let alone pass by them. It starts, but along the line it has many endings, even after death. People still carry each other around in their hearts and in their memories. I am growing up, and blooming slowly into an adult, yet, I still am believing heartly in happy endings. Yes, life gives you sour grapes, plenty of them indeed; but I'm sure that we all get at least one really happy ending, that at least just for one morning makes us wake up with a jump and a warm fuzzy feeling in our stomach. We live for these moments even if we don't admit it, and it is with anticipation of these moments that we scrape through tough experiences.

And happy endings come in different shapes and sizes to suite all our needs. The classic they-lived-happily-ever-after are the rarest because they are dull, and artificial. But even finding your garage keys at the bottom of your handbag and saving yourself 2 flights of steps is a mini happy ending.

Actually, "ending" isn't even the right word for it. An ending .. stops. The warm fuzzy feeling continues, and blends away. Its more like a happy BLending: a nice event that blends into your life and gives it a boost.

So with this I conclude that no matter how old I get, I will never, and I say "never" and I stamp my foot firmly, give up on warm fuzzy feelings. Life is working for those moments, and them moment I stop living for them, I will die.

*simmer*

continued..

2009-07-06T22:38:00.003+02:00

And she sped off.. dragging her body behind; but the mind (little as it was) was so occupied with avoiding the approaching ocean sized droplet that it forgot to program a destination. This realization came after precicely 10 jiffies (jiffy being an actual time measurement to show a fraction of a millisecond) and with the realization, Cicra simply stopped, eyes wide open, and scratched her forehead.

And the dinosaur? Well, he just sped past her.. not noticing she stopped. After all, dinosaurs are not meant to be intelligent. It wooshed past her and crashed straight into a huge hotel which usually stood nicely on the promenade, but which today stood in a dinosaur's way.

Now only its tail was visible through the hole it had created. It was not moving, obviously. Knocking down a double cemented fortified wall wasn't anywhere near the dinasour's abilities. Cicra walked forward.. and on approaching noticed a buzzing nose. Small sparks were coming out of the dinasaur, now robot.. and on its back, Cicra now noticed a red button. She walked up to it and pushed hard at it.. At first nothing happened but slowly, that red button started turning brown, and triangular until it became a sandwich. And looking around she no longer saw the hotel's ruined lobby, but students laughing at her squashing her lunch. Beside the now ruined bread was a note reading "Today you won the battle, but I will win the war! Beware Super Cicra!"

24_Candles

2009-06-29T01:54:00.002+02:00

It's not the day, the gifts or the alcohol you drink. But birthdays are special because they come at a time when you really need an ego boost. On your birthday, the really really special people do the really really special things that make you feel the happiest person on earth, just because you were born that day, a few years back. People actually bother to stop at shop(S) to buy you a card that suites your character/istics, they bother to pass it round and sign it, they bother to meet with you and do lovely sweet things like buying you a secret drink and doing an awesome toast to your health. They leave your birthday card on your pillow, and ask you if you are drunk when you go to them and kiss them on the cheek in the middle of the night to thank them. And they don't open their eyes, they just smile, and you can see that smile even in the darkness, because its warm. And they kiss you goodnight in just that tiny whiny little bit warmer way after giving up a day's work just to spend some more hours with you, even if its doing nothing. They also make you a special home-made card after wracking their brains and the internet for a decent idea, and they bake you a small cake by mistake, and feel really horrible about it.

Thankyou all for it. For the special little efforts which make me a stronger person. Thank you for your support, love and advice. For your sincerity and bluntness. The wellness I feel is undescribable. It is the pleasure of knowing that yes, I am alone, breaking through life.. but I have all you people egging me on and believing in everything I do.

And even if its only 2.15am on my birthday, it has been the sweetest, most amazing birthdays of all.

Thanks.

read and you'll see what sharp teeth and drool have to do with summer and a seaside promenade.

2009-06-22T23:33:00.005+02:00

Cicra walked lazily along the promenade.. the sun was shining, the sea was gleaming in the said sun's rays, the clouds were gliding by carelessly in a warm summer's breeze, occasional bits and pieces flew across the empty road and caught fire on the hot tarmac, the silence was tangible, the clock on the church struck 11.00am on this still extremely silent monday morning...

Cicra stopped. She had sensed something was wrong, and looking around she saw... that she had forgotten to wear her (horrific) earrings.

"Darn it,"..

and the utternace of those feeble words dried the last few drops of spit that she had in her mouth, causing her to dryly drool for a freezing cold, fresh, crystal clear bottle of mineral water.

So she delicately walked over to the kiosk, only massacaring her left knee against one wooden bench, and leaving the right one intact. No sooner had she walked there that she realized it was closed..at 11.00am, in the middle of a hot summer. And only then did it strike her that, in fact, there was no one around.. not a soul could be seen in all directions, as far as the eyes could stretch. And this was a tourist area, full of shops and restuarants and pubs and banks.

Out came the intergalactic amulsifier of partially liquidized radio waves.. her super special mobile phone. But Le Mon didn't answer.

She would have considred visiting his house if it weren't for an ear-scorching ROOOOAAAR and the sound of footsteps (gigantic ones) getting closer and closer, sending tremors across the surface of the threatened promenade up till Cicra's throat.

The footsteps got closer and closer, and the roaring louder and louder, until finally and unfortunately a massive dinasourish head popped out from behind one of the tall apartement buildings. It was ugly, even for Cicra's standards, and she could already smell its atrouscious bad breadth from so far.

Far was a useless word in this case, because the distance was covered in a slipping-of-a-sweat-droplet-off-a-forehead.

And did Cicra move an inch? ..

She had instead forgotten her nationality, which was a heroic (<-- pun) feat in so little time. Terror, it was later discovered, was the fastest traveller existing.. contrary to the popular belief that put light at the top of the list. I.t. (Ignatius Tremendes) was standing in his full height (which was approximately very high) above Cicra. Towering perpendicularly... muscles tensed, claws clutched, teeth numerous and sharp and a glassy look.

Needless to say, Cicra was still frozen to the spot. It was only when a drop of dinasaur drool which would have filled the Aswan High Dam in a time of complete draught, slid off his 23rd-from-right, upper canine and gathered gravitational speed towards our heroine that the little that was left of her brain (it wasn't the dinasaur's doing), reacted energatically to the approaching humidity and sped off, dragging the body behind.

TO BE CONTINUED, soon hopefully

Albert issakkar go l-iskola

2009-02-28T20:23:00.003+01:00

I wrote this story while my students where writing a composition titled "Albert issakkar go l-iskola".

Albert kien fl-isbah holma. Kien ghaddej fuq ziemel abjad halib minn go nofs foresta imsahhra meta f’daqqa wahda hlejqa orribli mimlija suf tfaccat quddiemu u kellu jieqaf hesrem. Fethet halqha, u l-ghajta li ghajtet kienet familjari hafna ghal Albert, kienet qisha… L-IZVELJARIN!

Albert tar minn gos-sodda, gera ghal kamra tal-banju fejn hasel wiccu u f’kemm ili nghidlek kien libes l-uniformi u telaq b’girja lejn l-iskola. Dik il-holma kienet kidditu mhux ftit, tant, li x’hin pogga bilqieghda fuq is-siggu, fil-klassi induna li kien ghadu mejjet bin-naghas! Il-gurnata ghaddiet b’Albert jiggieled mieghu innifsu biex ma jorqodx! Fl-ahhar ftit minuti talab lill-ghalliema tieghu biex imur jahsel wiccu izda bin-naghas li kellu serrah rasu mal-hajt tat-tojlits u raqad raqda liema bhala!

Kien il-hoss ta’ bieb tqil jinstabat li qajmu, izda x’hin fetah ghajnejh ma rax id-dawl sabih tax-xemx ta’ Mejju, imma dalma tqila miksura biss mid-dawl dghajjef tal-qamar imdendel fis-sema. Tant kienet kbira l-hasda li ha Albert li ma felahx jiccaqlaq. Ma kellux idea x’ser jaqbad jaghmel. Kif gie ftit f’tieghu beda jdur u jaghqad ma’ l-iskola u jipprova jiftah kull bieb u tieqa li sab fis-sular ta isfel, izda kollu ta’ xejn. Madankollu x-xorti riedet li kif kien kwazi ser jaqta’ qalbu, gietu idea brillanti.

Mar gabar ponn zrar mil-grawd u waddbu b’kemm kellu sahha lejn it-tieqa ta’ Gerit, mara xiha u armla li kienet toqoghod bizwit l-iskola. Beda jittama li kienet ghada ma marridx torqod. Ghaddew hames minuti u l-imbierka Gerit kienet ghada ma tfaccatx fit-tieqa. Albert rega waddab ponn zrar iehor, din id-darba b’iktar sahha minn qabel. U b’xorti tajba, wara ftit instemghet ix-xwejha tgerger u tghajjat kontra dak il-minghul li kien qed jipprova jkissrilha it-tieqa.

Albert ma damx ma fehmha x’kien gralu, u f’radda ta’ salib kien hemm rigment puluzija wara l-bieb ta’ l-iskola flimkien ma’ ommu tibki u tixher u missieru b’par ghajnejn imberqin.
Ajma x’gurnata kera kienet dik ghal Albert. Zgur li ma kienx se jerga jorqod l-iskola issa. Mela! Biex ikollu jaghmel xi lejl maqful hemm gew mal-grieden u l-wirdien!

Harvest time!

2008-09-26T20:12:00.002+02:00

the subject today is life, once again. We spend our lives seeking (consciencously or not) something extra-ordinary, and if we'd just stop and listen, we'd realize we get all the extra-ordinary things knocking at our doors. And damn, how much QUALITY time we'd have then.

Anyway, I tried to do that, for the sake of the legendary practice-what-you-preach philosophy, and I started looking around. I was in my car when this seed rooted into the magma at the pits of my grey matter, waiting for a lovely old, SLOW lady to cross the road long after the lights had turned green..again. And anyway, I was looking around.. at the car resting by mine, and wondered what other drivers do when they're waiting at the lights. Curs'd be the hour that such a foul thought was given birth unto my lamanted, unoccupied brain. What.. you might wonder.. do drivers do when they're waiting at the lights.. well, my dear; they pick their nose and ears! I had to pull the handbreak, and get out of the car to pick my jaw from off the asphalt. What a ghastly sight! No, its not a one off. Many, too many, people do that.. and I can vouch for it cause well, i kept my eyes open. So, tip of the day: install double tinted window tints on your wheels!

on your marks.. get set.. live!

2008-08-22T23:39:00.005+02:00

I was driving back home today, thinking about how differently people can live their life.. not in the things they do, but in the way they do them. Why do some people live life to the max, as if every minute they live is their last? And why do others live a routine, always thinking for tomorrow? I think it's quite plain that I am a fervent believer of living as much as possible and sleeping whatever is left. However today, in the latest attempt to understand someone's attitude towards life, I think I actually managed to, if not convert, understand. . .

. . . Life is like a race. And so far I think everyone would agree. But there are a gazillion types of races, and as many types of athletes that run these races. Each race demands a different type of approach, and of pace; some require sprinting, instantly, because the race is short, others require the racer to save energy for the long journey. Now, some people decide that their life is a short race against time, so they have to live it to the utmost, minute by minute; others might decide that life is a marathon were sprinting at the beginning would mean not getting to the end of the race. In this race you need to reach a constant pace, throughout, and the slightest change of pace would mean the disruption of a whole cycle of precise calculations.

I believe that the most senseful reasoning is the marathon "theory". Because if a sprinter tried to race a marathon, he'd end up ending his race far earlier than expected. While a marathon racer who plans his race well, still lives his race at a significant pace. However, every single day, when I bid goodnight to those VERY few special people, I can't help but wondering what I would feel if that was the last time I am seeing them.

Can you say enough "thankyous" "I love yous" "sorries"... no, you can just not say enough or overdo it. And again life turns out to be the hell of a complicated bite to chew that everyone says it is.

2008-06-17T23:58:00.005+02:00

aah finally! I figured out what that feeling of incompatibility (similar to a tingly feeling in your eye which no matter how much you rub, pull, squash are stretch it stays put, and finally you decide to stop trying to make it go away, even though it is bloody irritating)..was.

Why ain't I all that comfortable on high heels (even if I like them so), and why don't I feel that instinctive need to spend hours every morning doing my hair and applying layers of foundation? I am woman.. I feel it boiling in my blood but I've always had the suspision that the boiling womanly blood in my veins doesn't exactly boil in the same way as other women's.

Today I finally saw what that tingly feeling is. Women that spend hours on makeup and on their hair(which most of the time, after all those hours of care, still turns out STRAIGHT and plain), women that seem as comfortable on sky-high heels as I would feel on a gigantic goose-feather pillow, women whose hair stays in place no matter which gale-force wind is blowing, women who manage to keep their lipgloss no matter how much vodka-coke they drink.. and I could go on forever.. well, these women all fit in one, of two catergories which classify in a very simple manner all the women of the world. The OUTs and the INs.

The outs are the ones you see. You notice them immediately, with all your senses. These are the women referred to in quotes such as "I was in Italy last week, and the women there are gorgeous." They were genetically programmed to want to be seen, and they have a very high self esteem which is constantly alimented by other people. These women have a natural charm, a magnet which draws all types and kinds of people.

The Ins, on the other hand are the invisible type. They feel people's gazes burn into their skins and they have a natural inclination towards walking in shadows (of trees AND of other people) and talking in inaudable pitches of volume. They might be pleasant to look at, but they spend time cultivating not their outer skin, but the massive world within them. They are so connected with what is inside them that many times they become translucent. The one thing that they have in common is that none of them is ever the lucky protagonist of the famous viral infection: love-at-first-sight.

And before I start sounding like one of those quizes were you get classified an &(£$_ if you scored a majority of As.. I want you to understand that both categories are beautiful, because both are women. However.. being a proud (even if genetically forced) member of the latter category, I vote for the Ins, and invite you to look better at people who don't jump into your focus, listen better to their ideas and check out their ass a lill bit longer. cheers.

Dieters guide to salads around Malta (3)

2008-06-07T00:23:00.009+02:00

It was Friday yet again, and yet again I was sitting at a restaurant, "in" our beautiful capital city, very very close to the water. The first thing that struck me (if you exclude a happy-go-lucky coackroach taking a strall from one dustbin to the other and amazingly not being flattened to death by anyone of the many feet (and respective owners) around) ... was the enormity of the dining area, which was indeed packed to the last chair. Having said so, the second thing that struck me was not that no one except me had noticed the above mention HUGE cockraoch, but that there was an average of 1 waiter per 15 tables. It doesn't take an atomic calculator to deduce that the service was comparable to the speed of a limping, sleeping snail.

How long did it take for the drinks to find their way to our lips? Precisely an hour, and we only had a "bottle" (barely enough to fill a glass) of water, and a soft drink. I did not blame the waiters, they were keeping up all too well with the chaos and out of proportion clientele. There just should have been many more hands on deck.

As form of enetertainment, while we now waited for our food, we had quite a loud table of people, who laughed loud, talked loud and complained loud. Mind you, I have nothing against a hearty complaint, but it has to be audable only by the waiter, in order, first of all, not to embarrass him/her and secondly not to be labelled, hehh, loud.

So finally our food was delivered to our table. His plate really smelled and tasted (yes.. i allowed myself a bite) delicious. The sauce of this plate of pasta was divine.. maltese sausage and the wonderful aftertaste of wine. Sublime. My salad was also very well presented, and not over adorned with dressing, a plus for the chef who kept in mind that people who order salads are people who aim at eating something with less fats than a normal plate. It was nothing complciated really, just an assortment of lettuce, tomatoes olives and feta..and that's exactly what I was looking for. I barely finished my plate. Another plus for this one was that the feta was not the marinated type, but it was fresh tasting rather then squashy and sour.

Unfortunately I was freezing cold after over 2 hours of sitting in the fresh night air, so we quickly summoned the bill and ran off home. If I had to grade this place it would be an eight on ten for food, but two on ten for service. That would give it an over all grade of five on ten. A shame really.

Dieters guide to salads around Malta (2)

2008-05-19T22:28:00.004+02:00

The newest, and probably most effective scheme of helping customers keep their diet is on the market. I am impressed at the efficiency of this method, absolutely flabbergasted, dumb-struck, fascinated.. you name it.

Well, against my better judgement I accepted my partner's wish to visit this place, let me just say it's in the same area as the first insert..closer to the sea this time. The first signs of disaster (yes, the first paragraph was pure sarcasm) came immediately as we stepped into the restaurant and noted that all the clients were sitting outside.. no one was inside, except, obviously, us.

So, it took us (and I'm not exegerating) 20minutes to order, and I had to go up to the waiter and plead him to come and take the order. Don't ask me why we hadn't walked out by that time.
Probably my instict for a, let's call it scoop.

So the waitress came, and took our order.. and no, the food didn't take ages to arrive. BUT..as soon as it rested itself infront of our hungry selves, what could only be compared to a restaurant-scale volcano eruption took place. The waiters started a full-blown verbal fight. It was amazing. I was trying to eat this huge plate of lettuce, listening to men being atributed out-dated body parts, and swear words which would have scandalized an anti-christian, creative pirate. And all this was being exchanged with the delicacy and consideration of an elephant with a bad constipation.

"Ghidli x'jibqa fik?!" would be an ideal maltese saying. We ended up totally spaced, scared to ask for the bill. You can imagine how much tips they got. No, not nothing. 2 euro cents has a better impact.

And the waitress had the face to ask "was the food to your liking?" as we walked out. "yes the food was..not the entertainment though."

C'e` sempre..

2008-04-22T17:46:00.003+02:00

C'e` sempre qualcosa nella vita dalla quale scappiamo.
C'e` sempre qualcosa nella vita che inseguimo.

C'e` sempre qualcosa nella vita che vogliamo.
C'e` sempre qualcosa nella vita che dobbiamo avere.

C'e` sempre qualcosa nella vita che ci fa bene.
C'e` sempre qualcosa nella vita che ci uccide dentro.

C'e` sempre qualcosa nella vita che ci ricorda qualcuno ...che non c'e` piu`.
C'e` sempre qualcuno nella vita che ci ricorda qualcosa ...che non abbiamo piu`.

C'e` sempre qualcuno nella vita che ci da vita.
C'e` sempre qualcuno nella vita che ce la toglie.
C'e` sempre qualcuno nella vita che fa tutte e due queste cose..

C'e` sempre qualcuno nella vita che ci ispira ad andare avanti.
C'e` sempre qualcuno nella vita che ci lega al passato.

C'e` sempre qualcuno nella vita che amiamo con tutto l'cuore, e l'anima, e l'corpo.
C'e` sempre qualcuno nella vita che odiamo con passione.

Perche la vita E`.. finche noi ci siamo, con tutte le nostre cose, e con tutte le nostre persone, con tutte le paure, i dolori, la gioia e il dolore.

Dieters' guide to salads around Malta

2008-04-21T19:38:00.003+02:00

Panic spread inside the inner most layers of the Earth's core. Lava boiled at temperatures unthinkable, earthquakes spread out in square ripples, and undescovered petrolium turned bright pink.

I had stepped upon something worse than cow dung on a midsummer's day nightmare.. I had stepped upon a God begotten SCALES *shock*

For a few minutes Earth itself stopped moving and silence ruled the plains while the small, red arrow skidded across the numbers. 20kg.. 30kg.. 40kg.. 50kg.. (silent prayers) alas 60kg.. until it stopped on the trecherous 64kg.

Oh Lord. Not again! Many months, and sweat beads ago I had been this size.. but I had ran, and walked, and lifted, and shifted, and thrown and picked until I was a nice 55kg. Where did all the fat come back from?! The BASTARD!

What is worse is that summer is around the corner, and since the sea is going to be infested by jellyfish.. all the macho-hunks who in the past tempested the blue waves with shiny smiles and tortelli-six-packs will be carpeting the ruddy beaches! That rubs off any intention on my side to lay unhassled, bum towards the blue skies, slowly baking and turning sexy chocolate brown.

Two options present themselves: I can either dive in, magic wand in hand and disintagrate the invading jelly-fish or RE-loose the gained weight. Unfortunately no magic wand has yet been known to disintegrate jelly substances, so the choice is no longer a choice.

And this is where the title to this blogg starts making sense. Its already widely known, altough mostly as a legend, that I attend gym. So obviously a slight instensification of the activity in there.. possibly not the admiring activity, will be required. Another thing is a resolution to eat greens, or anything which isn't green but has seeds, tastes aweful and is generally fed to rabbits.

So, finding myself at a restaurant with an inviting Italian name yesterday, I sat at a table with my slim, and therefore not worried partner. The menu is averagely vast, until you get to the 'salads'. Under this title you find all sorts of things which, yes, make the salad list look long, but NO, aren't salads. Among the 2 or 3 options to genuin salad I picked the Ceaser salad, which seemed to be the less fattening of the lot.

Ceasar salad is lettuce, chicken, bacon, croutons, parmesan cheese and ceasar dressing (what is ceasar dressing? .. search me). Well, it was all that in abundance, especially lettuce. I quite enjoyed the lot, and the chit chat with the happy partner eating a happy pizza. A nice cappuccino ended the meal and we were out of there before too long.

And you would think the story ends there, but.. what respectable story would this be if it didn't have a twist in the end? The twist is infact a twist. More than one actually... in my stomach. I spent the night twisting in bed with aches and pains in my already fat-battered stomach. I will not give details regarding my appearance this morning. I'll spare you the details, and me the shame.

Soppy hour

2008-04-17T23:03:00.002+02:00

I have been blessed with 12 angels this year so I felt it was my duty to dedicate a small space to them..

My first class, my first year teaching and I'm sure this will remain the best year ever. They make me proud because they are oh so smart, smarter than me most of the time. I've taught them the art of mind boggling..and now the students have over run the teacher.

They are a real challange. Sponges of knowledge, thirsty for facts.. the more fascinating the better. They have a rhydm, a fast one indeed, and you either get carried away or get left behind.

Their tongues are sharp, sometimes sharper than their wit. But they try hard, harder than probably they could achieve, because I push them, because I believe in them. They have so much to share, and I have so little time to listen to all their wonderful stories. They talk and talk and move and talk, and eat and talk and write and talk. Because they live life so intesly, minute by minute and they seep it all in somehow.

It hurts when I have to act "teacher" with them. Yes, sometimes I have to stand above them and raise my voice. Sometimes I even shed their tears. But I swear, never with hate or pleasure. I weep inside with them, but my firm word, I hope, will prevent firm feet stepping on their heads eventually.

They are my pride. Every single one of them. And I pray for them to always remain so crisp and fresh and pure, and intelligent. The list could go on, but let me not be overly soppy.

This was just to prove that Super Sexy Super Cicra has a heart ;)

and some more...

2008-04-09T22:10:00.009+02:00

Every so often I get this bout of creativity. Somehow, it always flowers into a different activity. This time, its card-making.

I'm still trying to figure ME out..

Putting thought into things

2008-03-31T00:34:00.005+02:00

Sometimes, a few words in a card can mean more than any gift. Sometimes putting thought into things which would otherwise be taken forgranted is as precious-a-gift as any off-the-shelf objects..

GYM-nauseum

2008-02-05T23:12:00.000+01:00

To all those women who desperately ask: "where have all the good-looking, single men gone?!!" .. I answer: AT THE GYM!

If shops are the female realm, than definitly, the gym is the male one. Yes, women are present in this testosterone soaked environment, but I'm almost sure that the only reason that this is so, is to give men something infront of which to show off.

What do they show off? Oh, anything basically, from the obvious tricepts, to tight abs.. more like a packet of vacuum-sucked tortellini, and off to pulsing veins, dripping sweat, over-abundance of hairs..everywhere, and finishing off with, heh.. testicles yes. Testicles bulging from beneath toilet-paper thin cycling-pants. Believe me, when you're struggling your way through 30 minutes of level 7 cross-trainer the last thing you want entertaining you is a bald headed, mustached, OLD, flimsy bodied..BUT blessed in the lower abdomen area, man, trying (with no visible physical result...) to pull up a ridiculous amount of weight (too heavy or too light doesn't make any difference to either the fact that it is ridiculous or the dangling atributes.)

You see them of all shapes and sizes, and colours, and nationailty and gender orientation, and status, and background and work.. all with a common aim: that of building up muscle tissue and looking good. However, the common belief that they do it to impress the women is presicely so: a belief/legend. Nah! they do it for themselves! It is so obvious when you see them looking at themselves in the numerous mirrored walls of the gymnasium. They tilt their head sideways, raise an eyebrow and almost, but not quite so, smile at themselves. Then off they go again to huff and puff and blow their muscles up.

And the ladies? They don't just sit there, but most of them really should, unless of course the aim is to act out a slow-motioned film clip of a tortoise taking a stroll. I go into the changing room, lock my bag into the locker, take a quick glimpse in the mirror and off I go to burn away worry. Other female species seem to enjoy running around competely denuded, then applying an array of deodrants, untiperspirants, perfumes and what not, THEN unzipping huge gym bags and taking time to decide which sports bra will best suite today's tracksuite, then an eternity on pulling up their hair ( I wonder why, it's not like they go out there and sprint their way to heaven and back, risking a bad hair do with all the gales and hurricanes they encounter on the way).

And then people ask me how I manage to live without watching tv!

Existance

2008-02-04T21:12:00.000+01:00

Existance. Many people jump head first into living, generally lives of a certain amount of grandour, without ever bothering about the intricate logistics of .. existance.

Because, the purpose of Life is to live it as comfortably and luxuriously as possible, always reaching far beyond your grasp, but what is the purpose of existance? Why do WE exist? WE being us, with that particular hair colour, eye shape, bad tooth, pig-grunt laugh, very shameful secret imbalance of bodily parts that come in pairs..

Anything, excluding humanity, has its specific purpose of existance. Air for breathing, light for seeing, leaves for (no, not for photosynthesis and all that jazz) falling to the ground and fermenting and creating more healthy, growth-prone.. ground, pens for writing, pencils for peace of mind when writing, dogs for filling every where with tiny, highly irritating hairs, and for cuddling of course. And humans, for.. fun?

We have even stopped being dinosaur's multivitamin source of mangia mangia! And don't tell me that I exist to teach, given that I'm a teacher, because if I stop teaching.. I stop earning a living, and ruining/improving the destinity of future humanity, but I don't stop existing.

Well, try as you might, no considerable amout of grey matter activity leads to any plausable answer, or rather, conclusion. My belief is that we exist, nonetheless. It took a huge deal of (im)probability to get to this very particularly specificly precise genetic code, and we should keep that in mind.. there is only ever going to be one of us.. cloning technology permitting.. and while treasuring this thought, we should do our best to LIVE this existance.. not waste it. We should give ourselves a purpose, since we were so absolutely fortunate not to have been programmed with one.. possibly a purpose with some ..... PURPOSE.

cicra, the return

2007-11-26T21:19:00.000+01:00

Super Cicra was back from her holiday in the Bahamas. Why the sojourn had prolonged itself to more than the stipulated 7-days, (precisely to 3 weeks and 2 days) was a mystery which Cicra was determined to keep to herself until death did her apart.

"You got lost" stated Le Mon as soon as she stepped into her bedroom.
He could almost see the shock waves radiating out of her nostrils, and the questionmarks and exclamation marks hanging in the air around her lightning-striken hairstyle.
" You left your map and your toiletpaper on your bed, and I really don't want to think what replaced the latter. And CNN reported an abonimable sand-woman on the islands. Didn't you notice the drastic lack of human life-forms?? "

"Well, there was this friendly ape-like guy, very little guy in there infact, I thought he was speaking Spanish! How on earth could I know he was speaking Monkey?? I know neither of the languages!"

2007-08-01T00:00:00.000+02:00

"I want to be invisible!!"
"But Super Cicra, think before you decide. You have one last wish and you are going to waste it like the other two?! Can't you think of something better than a fake Louis Vitton purse, a red catsuit and being invisible?! Don't you want any money??"

The genie ended his plea with a sob. Some heros where not meant to think after all. He wished he was on the other side of the situation. He'd be at the Bahamas, smoking Cuban cigars and watching a regiment of brazillian brunettes sunbathing in no time. But, life was hard, and he had a living to earn, and so, with a flick of the finger Cicra was gone..

or rather, she was still there, but you could hardly notice her. There was just a very faint blur at the outline of her invisible self. The rest was, well, invisible. The genie was sucked back into the lamp, and Cicra was fast asleep in no time at all. As long as invisibilty didn't effect her eating and her sleeping, she yawned, she was quite ok with it.

7 o'clock.
Air-raides, very realistic bomb shells exploding, an ear scorching scream...
Cicra still snored. Not even this alarm had managed. It left the room in silence and went to search for a bottle of pills to swollow and end his life's greatest shame.

After a while Cicra decided it was the right temperature and atmospheric pressure to rise out of bed, and so she did, knocking over the lamp, the lamp- shade and shattering both with a nasty smash to the ground. When she had managed a safe return from the kitchen, having emtied half the contents of the fridge in her nuclear-bomb shelter stomach, she slipped into her uniform and lazily and of course, clumsily, glided out of the window.

She landed in class, and for the very first time managed to get to her desk without attracting the Professors attention. Then she turned round to Le Mon, who sat behind her, and asked for a mirror, but alas! he ignored her completely! She stood out of her chair, and ignoring the fact that the Professor wasn't screaming his head off at seeing her stand out of her place, finshed inside Le Mon's bag for the mirror. When she finally found it and looked into it...

It suddenly dawned on her that the events of the previous evening where not a dream! She was invisible! She was suddenly also aware of all the students in class racing, terrified, out of class. Of course.. all they had seen was Le Mon's bag suddenly opening and a mirror gliding out of his bag. In normal circumstances people would just have looked terrified at the knowledge of Le Mon carrying a mirror, today was a threat.

"Now let me see. How do I switch this off. She searched all over her body, in her smelly arm pits. for any button or lever or whatever would switch off invisibilty but to no avail. She was doomed to be invisible forever!

the candle corner

2007-06-24T12:55:00.000+02:00

investing my patience in melting art..

tamarind on memories

2007-05-15T21:54:00.000+02:00

Not so long ago..

...I was different. I was a different me. And there was one particular warm person, a sort of guide, or a hero, something of the sort. Today we spoke again, after two years, and that warm feeling of security came back.

I miss having someone in my life whom I trust completely. Someone who can give me all the security in the world with just a touch on the sholder. I remember him as determined, and wise. I remember his frown, his anger, and his angry pose. A friend whom I respect alot. A person who has a dream, and his struggling to make it real.

He has taught me alot about life through volleyball; how to stand on my own two feet for instance, or how to give everything without expecting anything back, and how friendship last beyond the test of time and age.

People say it is sad that memories fade away from our mind, and that pictures blur out. I say that memories don't fade, they just get transferred from the brain to the heart; and down there there is only space for feelings, and no pictures.

This person and the world he represents, and my life back then, are a special feeling in my heart, a heart that has been kicked around quite badly of lately. But the warm feeling remains and the crave to revisit it is every day growing stronger.

X-sel

time.. what a ruddy invention

2007-03-27T22:44:00.000+02:00

I know exactly how the soldiers in the Troy horse's belly felt.. how delicious swearing at Helen tasted, and how painful your eyes start feeling after looking at the sky (or the horse's interior) for the nth term of eternity. Yes, it's my defect. I can't stand waiting, I just can't bear it. Why ever on Bogus' bald head should I wait when I did my very best to get there on time?!! And why should the other person feel offended when I comment about how tedious it was to wait?!!

Why I hate it so much? oh well, because I think it is completely disrespectful. Would take much less effort to just plainly state that "hey, I really couldnt care less about you."

I'd just say thanks and leave..NOT WAIT.. which is important. Time is not everyone's pet, planning ahead is not in everyone's brain power.

Ok, accidents happen. People can be late for a very valid reason, and that's fine by me. But waking-up-late is not a valid reason in my standards or in anyone's standards for that matter. And then don't blame me for having spent my time building up rage inside my stomach. At least I spent it on something.. YOU were wasting it!! For crying out loud!

Anyhow.. will you wait a bit while I go get myself a coffee? ..

Trust and Doubt

2007-03-19T23:19:00.000+01:00

As the saying goes: "once bitten twice shy", and I am tempted to add on to that with "twice bitten, forever shy". How can I trust someone who bit me twice without the slightest thought going to a what-if-theres-a-third-coming-up? Doubt kills life. I am not sure whether what I see is truth or my fear manifesting itself. And sour dreams dont help. My mind has the very uncomfortable habit of dreaming my wildest fears, which somehow, don't seem all that wild and impossible when I wake up. The eternal conflict of trust vs doubt.. in the end probably none will win...

counting backwards

2007-03-17T16:50:00.000+01:00

Yesterday was "il-gurnata nazzjonali tas-sewqan taht is-sorm" which translated in sensible english is "national day of people driving really close to your rear.. bumper". It was not a very pleasant day, especially when I had to drive down a really steep hill with no lights (pitch black.. spooky view from the rear view mirror..), with over 115 traffic signs (yes i counted them) and with lots of roundabouts and islands spread about like baubles on a christmas tree. I'm sure any sensible person (sensibility, like common sense.. is not so common) in their right minds and with their limbs at heart would understand my not exceeding the 60kmh. I had this very irritating conincidence of cars full of drunken idiots driving oh so very close. It was scary I tell you. No sudden braking allowed in such situations, unless, of course, you feel like a free flight (taxes included) to hospital. Anyhow, I escaped this experience unharmed and unharmed.. with a small tip: pressing the brake peddle very lightly doesnt slow down your car.. it just gives a heartattack to the moron driving a fart's distance away from your car .. *zmile*

vanity fair

2007-02-13T23:26:00.001+01:00

just to try and change my profile photo to this one..

listen, big guy..

2007-02-06T22:19:00.000+01:00

I am not kneeling. But probably I'm doing what people that knee do.. and it's not proposing. I'm going through what I used to hear about when I was in primary school. And at that point in time some warm feeling inside used to reassure me that, no, that was definitly something which I wouldn't go through. Now I'm older, and it's actually happening. What is most frustrating and frightening is that it's not happening to me. And it's horrible to see someone droop, and retreat, and give up, and grow old and fed up. It is so beyond me and so ugly. And it is so not fair. Helplessness is something I want away from my ME.
Please, let it all be ok, let something happen that makes all this worthwhile. Give him back his dignity..and a life. I'd be very glad to give him mine, just to see some spark back in that body. It's called balancing weights..
Ei man.

oh, her... well...

2007-01-22T00:32:00.000+01:00

what would other people say about me..

Sh: she's nice, she's intelligent, and she's a wonder to talk to... when she gets the chance cioe
Mum: the oldest in age..the youngest at heart. And the softest and cudliest of the 3 sisters.
Dad: the one that owes me most money
Lula: the nerdiest sister on earth, but cares.. and a good taxi driver
Teftufa: the one that gets on my nerves most..lives in a world of her own
Fishing Rod: My curse..my blessing when I'm in a good mood. Thinks she's always right.. Zatat.. lives in a horrible road.. sapientona..rompi pal**..
Genisis: the stubbornest stubborn mule in universe. With the most ego-centric brute for company ever possible
Kiki: agrees with Genisis .. she needs to open her eyes and close her heart. But I trust she'll do the right thing in the end.

... to be continued/edited/deleted

2007-01-17T01:32:00.000+01:00

Ċiċra woke up feeling like she had slept for months. She'd only been sleeping for a week, time enough for her superheroine battery to recharge completely. She walked slowly to the bathroom mirror to see the state of her own self after 7 days of awes0me relaxations and dreams.
"I need to start working more, and waste this energy more often.." she grumbled, barely understanding herself ( not a surprise after not having talked for so long).

Now you'd probably remember having glimpsed at the box of other super heros and reading that their battery runs low..and eventually out.. after approximately a month. Batman's and Superman's run out every other minute.. that's why we never actually get to see them around. In Ċiċra's case, this happened for the first time in 21 years, need I explain why?

Anyway, it was time for her to set off and see what remained of the world after such a lenghty break..eeqhemm..i mean.. absence. She walked over to the furthest side of the room and sprinted towards the window, and.. BAAANG!

"*&$*"(!_)("(€)_)().. I knew I had forgotten something! )"(_€)*(€*$(*€(*&(__)*@ "(notice the € sign featuring here..)

She opened the window, and again, sprint and ..OUT she was in the morning air. Her flying had not been effected by the small nap at all! It was still clumsy, jerky and very dangerous for people having baths on the opposite side of the continent.

Her trip was very brief indeed. Soon enough (and no one was expecting otherwise) she was clinging off a tree branch looking like she'd suddenly felt the urge to indulge in a very lively and aggressive lettuce. Then.. BLUM to the ground with a tump that had the Krakatoa burp a cloud of toxic lava fumes.

The thought of flying again didn't cross the very limited parking lot behind her forehead. So off she set with a nice, steady pace towards her assistant (who's name escaped her..) 's house.
"Hello you, I have a problem."
" Oh, err..good morning Ċiċra, how can I be of help?"
"My nose is sooo cold, I just can't get it warm!"
"Of course it's cold. Your nose would be cold even in summer 'cause by the time you manage to warm it up, it would be Winter again!"

..and she still didn't notice how strange his accent was...

Prada and me

2007-01-04T16:52:00.000+01:00

the best thinking moments

2006-11-05T02:17:00.000+01:00

..they were talking about her precious gem. The one she knew so well, and loved. And it felt so strange to hear someone else talking about him, critisizing him, failing to see what she saw. And she couldn't help but resist, and maybe she shouldn't have. She wanted to be there without him, but they brought him up. And all of a sudden it was like a train, at high speed and maximum momentum, and she was in it, but she was still..not moving.

... It was taken all away, ever since the beginning.

on the fingers of one hand

2006-11-01T15:24:00.000+01:00

mmm, I was thinking today. Not that I didn't have anything better to do, but, I was thinking. Janice loves to use the word Princess... granted, since it's her profession; and well, I tried to make a list of all the people who made me feel like a princess in my life.

First and foremost there's my Nannu.
Many people seem to have had a special relationship with their grandparents. He was quiet, reseved and strict. But he had a soft spot for me. I was his gal. I still remeber the cosy feeling of his embrase. We used to spend endless hours playing Bella Donna, and Bella Donna halliela. And I know he always let me win. My mum says he was a chain smoker, but he never smoked in my presence. He was tall and sleak for his age. I came across some photos of when he was younger, the other day, and let me tell you, he was a real charmer. Nanna says he was a playboy before they got married; no wonder! His family was poor but nonetheless he studied and became a nurse, after being a bus driver for I don't know how long. I didn't go to see him when he was in hospital. I wouldn't have bared to have him look at me and not recognize me. I think of him almost every day. He is my guardian angel, I'm sure.

Well, now the other people who made me feel like a princess will look a bit dull compared to him, but anyway, they are all very special just the same.

There's Janice obviously. She makes me feel special.. even though we don't meet much she really keeps me on top of her lists all the time. We are oh so different but we actually celebrate this.. our friendship is, I would say: sizzling.

There's Dz.. I don't need to go into much detail here..given the elogju I wrote a few days ago. But yes, he does make me feel special.

Then there's another person. No need to mention his name but he was the one that inspired me to write this blog. He said something once, which I will remember for the rest of my life. Something you would say to someone you really think highly of. And well, I started thinking highly of this person ever since.

Now that's quite a long list of special people..

pillow case theory

2006-10-21T20:40:00.000+02:00

Please submit anger management strategies here.. the more the merrier.. fast!

mondays

2006-10-09T17:40:00.000+02:00

this is a list of the things that happened to me today..

1. Woke up at 7.30 and couldnt get back to sleep, until 8.55, 5mins before the alarm was set to wake me up

2. left early to pick il-Duka up, cause I'm too good, and when we finally got to university there were so many cars looking for parking that I had to drive back to S.Gwann, and park miles away.

3..this also meant that we got to lecture 15minutes late

4.. and on the way there I realized that all the liquid in my very carefully prepared salad had soaked into my bag..

5... ie.. everywhere was smelling like old socks.

6. after university..went to buy myself a lovely laminating machine. The road was disasterous. Had the shop been in the middle of a crator on the moon, it would have been easier to get there. Anyway..

7. Got back home, still happy with my new technology.. but alas! I found it has a missing stopper. So it's imbalanced..

8. In the middle of my swearing at the idiot who packed the laminator, my eyes focused on unauthorized movement on my desk. ANTS!! They decided to use my room as a bypass for the roof! Not a nice threat for someone who is not so comfortable in the company of insects

9. The intrusion required immediate action, so I got THE antpoison and starting climbing to place it in a strategic place. The strategic place required me to hang from the shelves, holding only with one hand and one leg. What was I doing with the other hand? I was hitting it really hard against one of the shelves..it is still aching.

and it is still early...

I hate mondays.

Salty stuff

2006-10-07T01:00:00.000+02:00

I wasn't even going out. The weather was horrible and I was tired stiff, but something inside me wasn't going to rest until I got dressed and left for the bar.

Well, let me skip the nitty gritty and get to the nice stuff. Princess was amazing. I hadn't heard her sing for ages and ages and I had missed it. Her voice is like a bowl of cherries; bubbly and so natural.

The music was really good. I found myself keeping the beat instinctively. They've already got a groovy style. There is something mystical which binds them. It's unexplainable, but its there. A sort of aura, an aim.

Still, Princess was best..keep it up cherry ;)

malti

2006-10-02T23:50:00.000+02:00

Inhasdet. Ma kienetx qeghda tistenna li jnizzluha minn gos-shab daqshekk hesrem. U il-hasda kibret x'hin ghajnejha iffukaw fuq wicc il-profs ftit centimetri il-boghod minn wiccha.
Jaqq; setghet tarha kull toqbda fejn qabel kien hemm tebgha tal-gilda. U setghet ixxomm ir-riha ta cafe` kark li probabli kien xorob ezatt qabel rehielha ghal dik is-siegha maghhom.
"Ghadek ma qomtx sinjorina, dologhdu? Ma hallewkx torqod billejl jaqaw? jew kellek x'taghmel?"
Sparhom il-mistoqsijiet. U ma kull wahda ghajnejh xeghlu iktar bil-pjacir hu u jara il-misthija iddelli fuq wiccha. Jew ghalmenu hekk haseb hu x'hin rahha tbaxxi rasa u tpoggi idha fuq halqha. Ried ihalli ftit sekondi biex igawdi il-figura li kien ghadu kif qata` qabel jikser is-silenzju. L-istudenti l-ohra kienu qeghdin jifluhom sew, l-ewwel lilu, issa bilwieqfa dritt dritt qisu xi general wara battalja kiefra imma rebbieha, u hi imgedsa fuq is-siggu, kwazi kwazi tistenniha se tinfaqa tibki dalwaqt.

Tista tahseb kif baqa` kulhadd x'hin flok lefqa ta` biki, instemet spluzjoni ta dak hierga minn taht dik l-id. Hi tefghet rasha lura tant kienet qawwijja id-dahka. U sa dan it-tant kulhadd kien ghadu iccassat. Il-profs biss, gismu bhal qisu inxtorob; fekruna kif thoss li riesaq xi ghadu, dahal go qoxortu minghajr qas biss tharrek.

"Ha naraw, ejja, share the joke, forsi nidhak jien ukoll la narak hierga l-barra mil-kamra."

Id-dahka bdiet tmajna bil-mod, sa ma spiccat fix-xejn. Imma fuq wiccha baqghet dik id-dbissima sarkastika, mimlija bl-ewforja tat-tpattija.

"Ma nafx min liktar fis-shab jien dolghodu; jekk hux min qed jiccassa ftit,.. jew min nesa` jilbez iz-zarbun!"

U ghajnejn kulhadd waqghu fuq il-papocc tas-sodda tal-profs; kulur kannella hamrani, mimli toqob u tentix!

2006-10-01T19:00:00.000+02:00

"Sorry"
Vague sound of rain
pierces through my song again
but I get distracted by the way his toes move when he plays
so I let it burn

I just poured my heart out
there's bits of it on the floor
And I take what's left of it and rinse it under cold water
And call him up for more

And I say baby, yes I feel stupid to call you, but I'm lonely
And I don't think you meant it when you said you couldn't love me
And I thought maybe if I kissed the way you do, you'd feel it too
He said I'm sorry
so sorryI'm sorry
so sorry

He grabs my wrists
as my fingers turn into angry fists
and I whisper why can't you love me, I'll change for you
I'll play the part

And I say baby, so I feel stupid to call you, but I'm lonely
And I don't think you meant it when you said you couldn't love me
And I thought maybe if I kissed the way you do, you'd feel it too

He said I'm sorry
so sorry
I'm sorry
I am sorry

a rusted reflection

2006-09-29T19:12:00.000+02:00

Ode to all the crappy sh** about anger management and counting to ten before erupting like a Vessuvius in his better days.
Humans are faulty computers. They watch films and think that everything else works like those 120mins. They expect romatic love stories with a good dose of happy ending for instance. And then, shock of the shocks, someone gets very sick, or someother gets a bit edgy, and all the romatic happy ending goes up in smoke taking with it the love story as well. We are growing our children in all this unfortunately. Everyone is trying to make his/her life as similar as possible to that perfect fairytale, keeping all the anger and fear and hatred and hurt inside, and then we all look surprised when out comes the paper attatched to a divorce lawyer, full of tiny bullets, and a straight line with "please sign here" at the very very bottom.
We, in turn, were grown in a world were everyone thinks only about himself, his needs and his interests. We rarely stop to think what is best for someone else, or to understand someone else's point of view. And if by any genetic error we actually do..then someone else crops up telling us we're softy idiots.
It is a vicious circle. I don't do it, so you don't do it, so he doesn't do and so on. Why should I do it if no one else bothered? And all our values down the drain. I'm not innocent either. I'm as guilty as everyone else. Nowaday we all sit at our computers, staring at that blank screen for hours on end; to think that everything we are actually interacting with is a set of 1s and 0s. And there is a person sitting at the other computer, or cooking downstairs, or watching tv in the other room, and it never crosses our minds to go over and simply be in the room with them. Sure, there's plenty of time to do that, we can do it some other day, yeah right, on the 12th of never.

Lancome

2006-09-12T20:35:00.000+02:00

Cic

2006-09-01T00:04:00.000+02:00

Dear You,

I am writing this with the hope you will never get to read it before my death. I have known you for over a year now, and I often find myself thinking back on the days when I used to look at you from a distance. You where quiet, shy, spoilt, lonely, independent and appealing. I also remember myself always overdoing it with words, actions and smss. Then we got closer, 11 months ago, and there started my mad rollercoaster ride.
You pissed me off a million times, confused me a million others and made me cry rivers and rivers. It was though, I admit it, and it still is. But today I realize how you helped me grow up and mature. You taught me how to love you, and you showed me the real value of simple gestures. I had to learn how to count to 1000,000 before I blow my top. You taught me the softness of a touch and the harshness of a pinch. You taught me how to draw, and even though you are so good at it, you still find things to praise in my simple, sketchy drawings. You listen and listen and listen to my endless chatter and taught me how to listen too, to your silence. You taught me how to drive, let me get behind your steering wheel; let me overheat your car. I savoured the stars with you, and the smell of the sea, and the sound of the boats floating, but also the mosquito bites while drunk. I shared my greatest secret with you, and you didn't make it weigh. You wanted me to participate in your journey as an artist and professional, and you value my opinions more than any other. You taught me how to admit when I'm wrong, and you ALWAYS know when I'm lying. We shared the most delicious white chocolate cheese cake ever, and fought over our first ever fried ice-cream and baci cake. You want me always walking in front, and you always make sure I don't get under any cars, be it with some nasty comment, a firm order or a gentle tug. You hugged me when I cried because I thought I was disappointing you... and deep down I know you trust my driving, even though you give me such a hard time.

...

Love,
Christine

2006-08-17T11:15:00.000+02:00

Like a butterfly,
Soft wings, tender touch,
I fly towards
What I long for so much.

Like a ray of sun,
Moving through the skies,
I search restless
For warm lullabies.

2,5

2006-07-04T10:29:00.000+02:00

1. I love you not because of who you are, but because of who I am when I am with you..
2. No man or woman is worth your tears, and the one who is, won't make you cry.
3. Just because someone doesn't love you the way you want them to, doesn't mean they don't love you with all they have.
4. A true friend is someone who reaches for your hand and touches your heart.
5. The worst way to miss someone is to be sitting right beside them knowing you can' t have them
6. Never frown, even when you are sad, because you never know who is falling in love with your smile.
7. To the world you may be one person, but to one person you may be the world.
8. Don't waste your time on a man/woman, who isn't willing to waste their time on you. !
9. Maybe God wants us to meet a few wrong people before meeting the right one, so that when we finally meet the person, we will know how to be grateful.
10. Don't cry because it is over, smile because it happened.
11. There's always going to be people that hurt you so what you have to do is keep on trusting and just be more careful about who you trust next time around.
12. Make yourself a better person and know who you are before you try and know someone else and expect them to know you.
13. Don't try so hard, the best things come when you least expect them to.

reflection

2006-06-26T22:58:00.000+02:00

sun --> moon
thin--> fat
blue--> red
italy--> england
in--> out
hard--> soft
cold--> warm

rainy day

2006-06-11T18:30:00.000+02:00

Feeling of sorrow,
Like there is no tomorrow.
A feeling so bleak,
You don't know where to seek..
the freedom.

Feeling sublime,
Entrance intertwine,
Saving your soul
From that which is so foul,
at touch, at sight...

Escape unharmed,
A dream of no sound,
A wish of the day,
When it is away.

(>"")> <(""<)

2006-06-09T20:19:00.000+02:00

...having such limited audience does have it's disadvantages...

star wars sound track

2006-06-08T12:52:00.000+02:00

Well, I was fed up and angry, and a thiny whiny bit annoyed, soooo.. I did it the unethical way.

NO! Don't go thinking rude things!

Being a supersexy superheroine does have some advantages. I have contacts in the high ranks, close underpayed employees of the big boss. So I stormed into his office, and before he could utter a word I had my pointer finger pointing exactly in between his eyes.

"EROS!" I said bravely...

"Give me back my powers!" *fire burning in my eyes*.

"NOW!" *thunders flashing out of my ears*..

"or else...!"

.. he was trembling all over I tell you. He couldn't even speak I tell you! And he pointed at a nice mauve coloured bottle on his fire place. I walked over to it, never taking my eyes off the naked brute, grabbed the bottle and drank my powers back. Ahhh, felt so good to be my self again. Temptation was too great.. there were so many bottles there, all powers no one was ever going to reclaim... I grabbed a nice cherry red one and *gulp* down it went.

"Thanks boss"

And out I flew to the rescue of my fans!

...not such a bad guy after all...

answers

2006-05-29T10:20:00.000+02:00

here are the results of the maltese vote:

1) human:
in the morning: the first years of life, when the human is still a baby crawling.
noon: the adult life where the human walks on two legs
in the evening: old age, and the walking stick.

2) envelope

3) the moon

4) your temper

5) me!

riddle me ridiculous

2006-05-25T15:55:00.000+02:00

Cicra has yet another quest. In order to re-enter the Silent City, she must first answer the following riddles.. HELP HER!!

What has 4 legs in the morning, 2 at noon and 3 in the evening?

What starts with "e" ends with "e" and contains only one letter?

.Born at the same time as the world, destined to live as long as the world, and yet never five weeks old. What is it?

This you should always keep - no one else wants it.

It wasn't my sister, nor my brother, but still was the child of my father and mother. Who was it?

is it me?

2006-05-15T21:00:00.000+02:00

CICRA..el cicre.. hits again!

it was dark and scary..and silent. I entered the City of you'll-loose-your-superpowers without knowing what to expect, and i regretted it as soon as i stepped in. I couldnt fly!! well..as i said, it was scary dark and silent in there. I needed to find the antidote.. Janna said it was in there and i was ready to go through thick and thin and hot and cold and high and low to get it!

the streets were narrow, and shadows loomed heavily everywhere. i walked in my 6-inch heels trying to be as silent as possible. I could sense evil everywhere. I was following florescent arrows set every few steps on the pavement. I came to a small opening with an inscription: "XARA". I was going to start wondering what that meant when out of the shadows emerged 4 murky figures... the strangest i had ever seen. One tall and bent, the other short and with a strange handbag handing down his side..the eyes of this one were horribly penetrating.. the other petit and pale..and finally, the scariest: long hair, bent nose.. and a mix between a slim and a beer-bellied brute. Oh god, i thought..im done for! But.. apparently they were not hungry..cause the brute said.. let's play hide and seek! If you find us we'll give you what you are looking for!

So I spent the next hour trying to catch the strange beings..to no avail..each time they got to the home before me...i so got frustrated that well.. i decided i'd try visiting the place another time.. i missed my powers and i knew the real world needed me...bye bye again antidote.

...

2006-05-04T22:48:00.000+02:00

Something has left my life
And I don’t know where it went to
Somebody caused me strife
And it’s not what I was seeking.

Didn’t you see me,
didn’t you hear me
Didn’t you see me standing there

Why did you turn out the lights
Did you know that I was sleeping

Say a prayer for me
Help to feel the strength I did
My identity has been taken
Is my heart breaking on me

All my plans fell though my hands
They fell
Though my hands on me
In my obvious it suddenly seems
Empty

The cranberries

Blonde Redheads...

2006-05-04T21:50:00.000+02:00

i sang so hard and loud that they finally let me go. Actually, they begged me to leave. I think they realized what a waste of talent it would have been to keep me in there.

Still no precious diamond retrieved. I'm wasting lots of energy just thinking about how to sort out the quest.. needless to say, I'm still at a loss. One diamond is getting all the more irritating by the minute..the other is growing facial hair.

Anyhow.. I had a very bad adventure this week. I fought none other than Vessuvius! Oh geeeze! He's one tough nut to crack. Blows his top too quickly for my tastes. We wriggled and squickled and huddled and paddled and meddled and saddled till he had no more lava to blow at my hair! Then, he just went to sleep..not even a goodnight... hehhh..men. Thing is.. when I got back home I had the shock of my life. ME.. the fairest fair maiden around.. was a REDHEAD!!! I did need a change.. but I would have preffered my hairdresser: Guy and Gay, to do that..

Arrivedorci

Room with a View

2006-04-28T14:30:00.000+02:00

ooo how i hate when this happens! I'm trapped! In a room with nothing but a computer...funnily enough, connected to the internet. Dr. Arbromagik lured me into this I'm sure!! I think it's some sort of reverenge for my killing almost all him army of "deadly" beasts. But I'm sorry, it's not my fault that he has a bunch of grannies to protect him. I've no idea how on earth he managed to trap me here... actually, it was quite easy. But tell me; who can resist a lovely smell such as roast ham and apple pie?!

Anyway, after eating all the stuff and realizing too late it might be poisened, I decided to try my luck with this computer. I would have bet my left ear that it wouldn't work but amazingly enough it did! And I would have bet my right ear that there would be no internet but there is! So now I'm trying to find a way out of here, that is, unless they bring another portion of that delicious pie.

Anyone has any ideas? I'd like to sleep in my own cosy cuddly warm bed tonight... *sniff*

Empty...

2006-04-09T10:09:00.000+02:00

Lo and behold

2006-04-07T20:37:00.000+02:00

I couldnt sleep last night, so I decided to fly abit around.. checking that no damsel was in distress, and no prince charming was dealing with any over-sized lizards. Well, I must say that the mediterranean character is extremely striking in Maltese people.. the passion especially... red hot sizzling passion...

..I happened to be flying over ta' Qali, and also happened to have forgotten my X-Ray-Night-Vision sight on. OH GOD.. no wonder there are few cars about at night!! Not even Fiat have as many cars parked in their backyard. And occasionally you hear a horn, or see lights going on..

Let me stop here.. I'd rather not go into anymore details, but, who ever dares saying that Spanish are the most mediterranean of all mediterraneans, hasnt been to ta' Qali at 2.00am!

... and so the story goes didadi didadi.. didadidadidadi...

2006-04-06T16:40:00.000+02:00

pfffffffff.. heroine for nothing. I'm just back from rescuinging a granny from a couple of burglars; both mighty heavy, was a bit hard to fly them out to matab and dump them home. neways,, I'd rather loose my powers and see That One person happy, but i cant and oh God it is so frustrating. It kills me to see someone in such a state, and it kills me to know that i can do a big, brilliant, bright ZERO. argh...

where art thou oh heroine??

2006-04-04T17:15:00.000+02:00

..he was just about to step off when I grabbed him from the collar and pulled him in. Stupid a**hole. What a waste of life it would have been.

Anyhow, I could try it myself, see what happens, hadnt it been for my being able to fly. Nothing much to fly for when the answer you get back is: "sssh, its a secret, dont let the others see it! They'd feel uncomfortable!!"

What about ME??!! Damn it.

Forgive me.. not meaning to be rude, but certain men simply ask for a good beating eh. I'm sick of crying myself to sleep.. HEROINES dont do it!! I mean, I took up the job just for this! Not crying to sleep. And I'm ending up doing it all the time. And in the instruction booklet there's written:
"Guaranteed not to ever lack courage. Able to face any situation with great confidence and decision."

Yeah.. my knickers.

I give up..

Patetic hour

2006-04-03T19:54:00.000+02:00

I was bored today; no one needed my help. So I sat on the point of our ariel, feet across, eyes shut and let my self go to thought. I was (still am) sad. Feeling useless is not nice. I felt lonely and set aside. I am so available that people actually use me. To make matters worse, Janna still hasnt found the antidote, and I am sinking under the pressure of the nasty virus. Amazing, I can already see the newspaper headlines:

"Super hero collapses to the only enemy she couldnt defeat: her heart"

help...

welcoming myself

2006-04-01T14:33:00.000+02:00

i was suddenly overwhelmed by the urge to pour out my thoughts on something non human and expressionless, so here i am. I'm still looking around, superheroines take great care in looking around..it's in our subatomic gene pool. Well, I'm off, time to save the world, again.

trashcan

Godinisidence-a series of

Chooks

Si l e n c e . . .

Beware Amaranth E123

the chicken or the egg?

un appreciated adventures

un appreciated adventures

once upon a time..

Dopo di te..

les femmes on the road..

of carnivors and men

peace ville

One of those days

it turns out that..

Pause

204 Italia Uno; Michale Buble in concerto..

continued..

24_Candles

read and you'll see what sharp teeth and drool have to do with summer and a seaside promenade.

Albert issakkar go l-iskola

Harvest time!

on your marks.. get set.. live!

Dieters guide to salads around Malta (3)

Dieters guide to salads around Malta (2)

C'e` sempre..

Dieters' guide to salads around Malta

Soppy hour

and some more...

Putting thought into things

GYM-nauseum

Existance

cicra, the return

the candle corner

tamarind on memories

time.. what a ruddy invention

Trust and Doubt

counting backwards

vanity fair

listen, big guy..

oh, her... well...

Prada and me

the best thinking moments

on the fingers of one hand

pillow case theory

mondays

Salty stuff

malti

a rusted reflection

Lancome

Cic

2,5

reflection

rainy day

(>"")> <(""<)

*star wars sound track*

answers

riddle me ridiculous

is it me?

...

Blonde Redheads...

Room with a View

Empty...

Lo and behold

... and so the story goes didadi didadi.. didadidadidadi...

where art thou oh heroine??

Patetic hour

welcoming myself

star wars sound track