Of love and obsession

I fall completely in love about once every two weeks. Her name is Ella and she is my niece. She is 8 months old, and slightly over 50cm tall, but boy, is she a charmer. Today was an utterly satisfying day, because not only was I graced with her presence, but she somehow always makes my day (or whatever is left of it) sunny and beautiful (think The Truman Show) - it is in fact, a part gray and overcast day. She has the BEST smile and smells great. What is it about the simplicity of a child’s innocence and utter joy that I feel so drawn towards? Perhaps because I know the world is sometimes such an awful place, and to know she is going to grow up with the shit we leave behind makes my heart twinge a little (or issit my conscience?). But at the same time comforted to know that perhaps she might make a difference one day, as she makes mine every time I see her. It is like magic – I love that she pulls my hair constantly only to want to put it in her mouth. I am a familiar foreign object to her, all wonderful and strange. I love the way she slobbers over my nose with her cherub lips and breaks into the cheekiest grin, that you wonder she must know something that we don’t. That life is wonderful, that I am wonderful… she makes me feel wonderful anyway. I just wanted to share that, that’s all.

On another note, I have a slightly strange obsession about garbage. The waste disposal methods in my apartment involves trudging down to the car park in the basement (often done hurriedly because a/ the plastic bag with leftover sardine juice might burst, b/ you’re carrying something really foul and don’t want anyone knowing you’re the culprit for stinking up the entire bin, c/ you’re wearing the t-shirt that your mother made you throw out when you were 13, only you didn’t!! or d/ you couldn’t be bothered to brush your teeth). Either way it’s always a hurried affair – the quick left/right glance, two-step-at-a-time down the stairs kinda dance. But we are digressing from my point – the point is I like to see what people have thrown out. Yes, I confess. And I like to guess which apartment it came from. You can always tell who had the big weekend (boxes of empty VB stubbies and wine bottles), or someone’s moved in/out (Ikea flat boxes). Often I find inspiration from Ikea packages – they always have strange names for lamps “Lanvits” or “Rxptem” or something of that kind. And I think ‘Oh I need one of those’. I don’t of course, because really, who needs another shitty stainless steel 11W (equivalent 60W) table lamp that costs $16 (a bargain!!)? Now if you talk about a ‘Billy’ bookcase, that’s another story all together. Because Billy is just so much more humane, like someone you could relate to. I wish I knew who it was that name Ikea furniture – do you think Ikea actually advertises for a position “Wanted: Homewares Labeller – knowing how to spell not essential.” I want to smack the bloody wanker who made me think these useless thoughts, and then smack him/her again for making me smack them.

And all because I walked past the rubbish tip tonight.