Furthur proof that I have very little of a life...

My third blog post in less than twenty four hours....what is this witchcraft?

In less than 5 hours, I will be home with my lovely family, and my wonderful and much missed best friend. I'm so buzzed about going home; chances are, by the end of the week, I will be equally buzzed about being back at Warwick, so it all works out.

Last night, I dreamt....many strange things, and part of it was a memory of a tableux from when I was about....fifteen, perhaps? Maybe sixteen?

It was a saturday afternoon, outside the Superdrug in town, in the space so charmingly named Pidgeon Square, due to the fact that the square (much like the rest of bedford) is populated in big, scary, vicious pidgeons, than will happily claw your face off, should you give them a fair chance.

There was a small crowd watching a choir of children from (Please forgive my generalisation) Africa, all of whom were orphans, all of whom came from the streets, all of whom were very talented and absolutely adorable: their singing was interspersed by their high, hopeful voices reciting about how they wanted to be doctors and lawyers and bus drivers when they grew up, and I swear, just to hear them was enough to make you (by which i mean me) cry, and the day before, they'd performed at a school assembly.

I'd enjoyed it so much, I was watching them again, and was (inevitably) approached from a stock character from the Play Of My Life- the random weirdo. To be fair, this man was fairly clean, and fairly articulate, and didnt seen to have any plans to abduct and/or rape me in the alley behind Woolworths (always a good thing), so I wasn't too freaked out.

I don't remember much of what he said, but I do remember he quite fixated with making me see the error of my ways and embrace the miracle of Yaweh (sorry....I meant God), and I was equally determined not to, but quite content to argue with him for a few minutes. I remember that his favourite arguemnt seemed to be the metaphor of a music concert- (I just had a horrible thought that he chose 'music concert' in order to 'relate' to my teenageness....fml....)- he said that if i didnt have a ticket, i wouldnt get in....so it was safer to get a ticket than to not.

I presume faith was the ticket....as if its so easy to 'choose' to believe something or not to beleieve.
In retrospect, I know what my answer should have been:

"If heaven is a concert, I doubt it'll play the kind of music i like. The people i like wont be there, if you have to be christian to get in: there will be.....hmm...maybe my grandparents and my evangelical cousins....but NO ONE ELSE! Not my mum, my dad, my brother, my aunts and uncles and cousins. My boyfriend wont be there, my friends wont be there....if you need faith to geti n, then NONE of them ,no matter how good they are, will get in! And HOW would that be a privilege or a reward or even fun? It sounds ghastly....so no, I dont want a ticket. Because never, in a million years, would i choose to go to this 'concert"