pUddLes

23721947_10213636886330180_1378277082_nAnyone who knows me, knows that I’m not a huge fan of children. They ask questions, and make noise. They interrupt *ahem, whatever-shutup*, they wake you up, and they smell funny. Occasionally there’s one or two that are tolerable, but in general “it’s a no from me”. And much like cats, if they know you don’t like them, they gravitate to you, but that’s another story.

There is one thing about children though, that I like, love…adore. Their…purity (for lack of a better word). They are untainted by Society in general. They give NO fucks! They LOVE or HATE everything. They don’t get embarrassed or ashamed of the way they are, or what they do. They find joy in so many things, that we have forgotten all about.

So, to illustrate, there have been two such instances this week, that have inspired this ramble…

The first was last night at a gig. There was a little girl, 5 years old, there with her Father. She wore a band shirt in the smallest size, fitted like a dress, so proudly. She asked Dad what he was doing with his hands. As he explained, she held her arm out, palm upturned, and slowly but surely retracted one finger, then two, until she had formed a perfect tiny devils horn. Sure she had it right, it flung up and swayed with the music. At the beginning of every song, she signed with the crowd. I refrained from asking if I could take a photo, because let’s face it…that’s just a bit creepy. But the world really missed out on seeing this. She lasted the entire show, and then walked out telling Dad how fun it was. I know 30 year olds that probably couldn’t do that!

Today, the heavens opened with a vengeance. The lightning show was dazzling and the thunder actually frightening. Walking down a laneway, the woman next to me screamed so loud, that it actually made me jump.
But, bunny-hopping along the next street, giving not a single fuck in the world that it could be the storm to end us all…was a little girl. She wore teeny little leopard print gumboots, and her eyes scanned the walk ahead of her for the biggest and best puddles to play in. She would ready like a pouncing cat, and jump with a splash. Satisfied with her effort, onto the next reservoir she moved. Her eyes held nothing but concentration and fulfilment.

As I wandered home, I wondered when exactly it is, that we lose our wonder with puddles, and nature, getting caught in the rain, the beauty of a storm, and all the other simple things in the world? It seems that life and love are simple, but people make it complicated.
I stopped to pet the resident street cat, and from there I figured…when in Rome.

Let’s just say there were plenty of puddles along the rest of the way home 😉
23667386_10213636886370181_371274923_n
Cheers Kids-enjoy the little things-again.
V

Advertisements

Deep down and hurty

In the past two weeks, I have been told that I am broken in 3 different contexts, none particularly nasty, yet quite resounding. This pertains to the physical.  My poor shell has been a little worse for wear lately, which unfortunately has affected the inner workings also. Some stuff happened, which left me somewhat bent out of shape like a crunchy pretzel, and I currently have Vertigo. I have had it once before, and it really messes with me. It encapsulates about 3 of my fears into one awful affliction. Perhaps self inflicted, perhaps not, yet it still leaves me in a state of constant fear and disorientation.

Today, only after discovering acute pain points in my back yesterday, I thought I’d finally try and get something done about it. I booked a massage. What could be the worst outcome…I said to myself. If it didn’t work, at least I would have had a nice massage right? Oh. My. Fucking. Holy. Mother. Of. GOD!

To begin with, being mostly naked has a distinct way of making you feel quite vulnerable, especially in front of a complete stranger, who is about to become intimately acquainted with your skin. This fragile looking young woman slips into the dimly lit room and puts on some soft music. Towels are draped carefully to cover all exposed skin initially. Shuffling…then silence, broken only by the lilting of pan flutes. Pan flutes! They create an air of tranquility right? It was a LIE!

Now, I don’t know exactly how she got there, but the next thing I feel…she is kneeling on my back with her elbows firmly embedded in the soles of my feet. She proceeds to (what I can only assume, as I was too scared to look) tear clumps of muscle from my calves and reattach it. She spins around and works her way up my back on her hands and knees, quietly adding “Let me know if too hard?” At this point, if I had any breath left in my body, I’m not sure what I could have said.

Her deceivingly strong, devil fingers applied oil and heat balm (in all likelihood in case I died) then pierced my upper back, and wrapped around under my shoulder blades, to lift them from under the skin, and twist them to the correct angle. As she bunched the muscles in my arms, fists were involuntarily clenched and released, and I think there’s a possibility my shoulder muscles are now contained safely under the flesh of my palms. She lifted my skull and tucked my spinal chord back under there, possibly reattaching it to whatever had become disconnected. And at the end, I’m pretty sure she twisted my neck to breaking point. Hot towel, little pat on the back, and “You can sit up now”. Umm…nope.

After a few minutes, I feebly redressed, and made my way out feeling numb and unable to face daylight. I’m fairly confident that there is a strong impression of my breasts, hips, and some internal organs left on that bench. When the feeling fully returns to my body, I’m hoping that it worked, or at least helped some.

Always read the fine print. Ow.
Cheers Kids.