Jazz Hands and Garter Belts

Whenever life gives you lemons and you're reaching for the tequila (I know I always do), there is a plethora of peanuts from the peanut gallery that would like to add to your fruit basket. This phenomenon truly floors me. We will call it Fool's Law. Fool's Law states that should you see someone going through something, it is your sworn duty as care-giver to take the situation, substitute yourself in and bore the person to death with the long and twirly tale of what you would do and how it would affect you… Almost as effective as the cure for the common cold (oh, wait).

It is as absurd, as it sounds. It's like going to a doctor and saying "Doc, I have a sore throat and can't stop sneezing?". To which the distinguished doctor would reply: "I had that once, kind of, but not the same, I found that by rubbing my throat and holding my nose whilst meditating on the benefits of Zen transcendental transformation, I was able to reach a higher state of consciousness.". Gee thanks, Doc, but can't I have a lozenge and a tissue?

So has been the story of my life in the last few months. Searching for the lozenges of life and ducking the ever more laborious twirly tales of Self and the Cabinet of My Life Factfile (I blame Facebook and other self-indulgent online scribe facilitators), I stumbled upon a Strepsil of truth that has gone a long way to fixing the things I have broken. "Shake your hands and let it go".

Sheer genius, really. We are all carrying more than our two hands can handle. Keen juggling, becomes a symptom of this ridiculous occurrence. A management tool for all life's responsibilities. It causes us to hand off balls to inappropriate people. Inadvertently, the source of Fool's Law. How has no one ever thought to just shake their hands and let it go? Somehow our balls have become more important than our happiness.

Well, balls to that. I am grabbing my top hat, feather boa and pulling up my fishnets, over my Big Girl panties. And in full cabaret-regalia I'm going to shake my hands, with spirit fingers and let it go. Because this is who I am, and what I want… The theatre of life and jazz hands. For now, anyway.

Life Hijacked the Train

In the age old tradition of responsibility shirking: "I'm not making excuses... BUT". And its true. Life as it occurs, by whatever measurement you may subscribe to (sundial, watch or simple guess-work), seems to fight against routine. Should your life settle into a routine that is as predictable as a train journey, life will rally and rise-up against the tyranny of this occurence.

Life is the railway bandit that will always stop the train!

For instance, blogging tardiness is as a result of the following:

1. Quitting my job

2. Running round in a panic wondering why I quit my job

3. Getting 6 new jobs to replace the void created by the lack of first job

4. Nervous breakdown due to overworking

5. Sitting at the computer blogging about the last 6 months

6. Lather, rinse and repeat

In that time, life has been the opposite of a train... it has been a rollercoaster. Any twist and turn that came my way, seemed like part of the ride. And, oh what a ride. When I was younger, I remember riding a corkscrew ride at the biggest amusement park I'd ever seen in Malaysia. It went round and round and it felt like my senses were on fire. If I screamed anymore, endorphins would've blown out my ears.

When life is taking you on that sort of ride, it's not time to reflect. It is time to grab the bandit by the balls, possibly steal his horse and ride off into the sunset. I will, however, be at the next station to get back on the train because you can't chase the horizon forever.