Just Call Me Feathers McGraw

" Howard Hughes: Does that look clean to you?
Ava Gardner: Nothing's clean, Howard. But we do our best, right?

(from The Aviator)

Friends and family still backstab each other, masking their devious intentions with sugary smiles. man and wife still hurt each other for years, each too proud and/or too afraid to apologise and give in. the children still sleep in though the sun has risen 3 hours ago. a strawberry falls to the floor but it's the last one left and the 3-second rule is evoked. girl falls in love with a boy and gives her whole heart to him only to have it returned in a mushy mess.

the world around you is obsessed with superficiality while all you want is an ounce of truth. you slog your way through a project, an assignment, an exam and even when you are handing it in, you shake your head sadly at its lack of excellence.
so should we bubblewrap our hearts and our minds? should we live in despair, struggling in the hollow, suffocating gap between dreams and reality?

are there little perfectionists in each one of us in some area of our lives where even a little imperfection is intolerable? areas which we struggle so hard to protect that we don't give others or even ourselves room to breathe? nothing's clean and that's the law of nature.

a baby is born a rightful mess. it doesn't come into the world smelling like johnson's baby bath all wrapped up in warm towels. the amazon does not look like the botanical gardens with trimmed lawns and neatly arranged orchids. the clouds don't have taps to hold the water back when they are full. a downpour is released whenever, wherever, on whoever and whatever they please.

in this world, there is no perfect beauty, perfect intelligence, perfect hair, perfect painter, perfect song because perfection is not just the best, it is something that is infinite."

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This excerpt is taken from a friend's blog (which she hasn't agreed for me to take, yet - babe, I will remove this immediately once you tell me you don't want it here okay?), and they are wise words. Beautiful words. She always speaks what my heart feels.

This bit, especially :

"are there little perfectionists in each one of us in some area of our lives where even a little imperfection is intolerable? areas which we struggle so hard to protect that we don't give others or even ourselves room to breathe? "

Yes. Oh boy, yeah that is me, in love.
I am ashamed to admit that, but I cannot deny that is me. (Just ask M lorr. Hurhur) The area I struggle so hard to protect - my heart, my position, my own desires. 'Cos I'm so scared of losing out, coming out under, being hurt before I know it. Sobering huh.



Yeah, okay, so there's the moody emo stuff. (I blame my hormones)



Today we had an extra lit class class, and I really had to drag my lazy ass out of bed for it. But on the upside, we watched Wallace and Gromit, this episode called "The Wrong Trousers".


It featured the cutest evil penguin (Joycey! You listening?) everrrr - his name is Feathers McGraw and he wears a small red hand-glove on his head while committing crimes so people think he's a chicken - and Gromit of course as usual saved the day.




I want a dog like Gromit. He reads Plato, solves crimes, and is so lithely James Bond-esque. Yet he walks on fours and can't speak (unlike other animated characters).

Ooh and lookey-here, there's a cute little sheepysheep that's apparently called Shaun. And it's funny how he's wearing a wool sweater.