Godinisidence-a series of

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

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

Si l e n c e . . .

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

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?

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

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*

of carnivors and men

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

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

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..

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

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..

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*

24_Candles

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.

Harvest time!

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!

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.

C'e` sempre..

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.

GYM-nauseum

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

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.

time.. what a ruddy invention

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? ..

oh, her... well...

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