Saturday, January 13, 2007

Why the Six Degrees theory holds true: My junior Simone is the daughter of a friend of my Mummy's physiotherapist. And that's only 4 degrees of separation.

I hate it when children cry. It irritates the hell out of me. You know, the kind of half-wailing, moaning, loud bursts of preschool angst. It irritates me only because I know it's not really sadness - just anger and incomprehension and an unjustified (in my terms) injustice. Which only makes you wonder if adult-crying is that much better. Silent and sobering and inhibited and selfish. Because they don't want to share it with everyone else; because wallowing in sadness makes you feel that much better that you have your own little slosh-pit to keep yourself dirty and moisturised and hidden from everyone else. When do we stop child-crying and start adult-crying? Maybe when we're caught in the in-between facing the plank of adulthood and yet cling on to the deck of childish desires.

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by @ 7:34 PM