"Basket cases"

Today Easter Saturday we blessed our eggs in church which is a Polish Catholic tradition. My sweet mother becomes very religious twice a year: Christmas and Easter. In between these two holidays, life is religiously uneventful and even contradictory to the teachings of her Christ.
This day my sister and I have to accompany her to get blessed along with a basket full of eggs. The ceremony only takes about 10 min. and it is cute to see, young, old, men, women and children, even super trendy teenagers carrying little decorated baskets full of food - every person trying to outdo their friends and neighbours in design, quality and colour. The priest says a few words and then splashes holy water on the baskets, people and “basket cases”.

My cute little mother wants to start a blog. A blog to God (remember she is religious today).

I can well imagine her posts:

“Dear God, thank you for giving me two such wonderful, beautiful and talented daughters. They are truely amazing; I only wish that they would be happier, maybe if they became doctors or lawyers? Or if they found a nice rich husband? Not an artistic bohemian man – even though they too have their positive sides, sexually, I mean – no what I think would be good for them would be a “nerd”, a quiet man who would do anything for them… Please God, help my daughters fulfill my wishes of finding the perfect man!”

Limbo (as a colloquialism) – waiting room of Dr. Death

Had a minor suicidal black cloud envelope my being this week – you know that cold damp cloud that whispers “What are you doing with your life?” “Does this life stimulate you?” “What happened to your dreams?”

I have for some time been aware that my dreams have been pushed aside by my own person for various bad reasons: trying to fulfil the dreams other people have for me; or persuading myself that others need me more than I need myself.

But the main big reason for postponing life has been the alienation I feel in this country, I have repeatedly told myself– I will take a step up dream-ladder as soon as I get out of here. Oopsy-daisy suddenly 2 years have gone by and I am still here, the outline of the ladder of dreams isn’t even visible through the black cloud of self destructiveness.

I have just spent two weeks in Israel of all places and listened to dreams being made and coming true every evening and there the reality of my own inefficiency and lack of motivation slapped me smack bang in the centre of my soul.

It’s time for me to leave the waiting room of Dr Death and make my own music.

By the way does anyone know how to get in touch with Mr Devil?

I need to sell my soul for shitloads of money to finance my dreams.