September 2, 2011

Bad voodoo.

When I came back from vacation I was re-energized and full of new plans and ideas to turn my life around. This happens about every time when I go on holiday and my life has yet to turn around. This time I can proudly say that I have been more successful than usual: I quit smoking, I keep my beautiful flat somewhat neat these days, and I haven’t worn sweatpants to work once.
On the other hand I’m still very unsuccessful in letting failed personal relationships go. My heart still stopped the other day when I saw my evil ex-flatmate at the Garden Centre. I had to buy myself a bottle of bubbly to calm my nerves, which I know I shouldn’t need anymore as it has been over a year since we parted ways. And let’s not even dwell on the ex-males in my life and just say – it takes me forever and ever to get over someone. Argh. I hate it and don’t quite know how to quit. I’m not even talking about getting over a proper heart break. I mean getting over the annoying part that comes after the heart is mended, but I still think of someone and wonder and ponder just because I can. Unfortunately there are no books or Cosmo articles out there on this matter. So I just continue to feel annoyed, wait for months and years to pass, and feel a bit mental at times. Meanwhile always sincerely hoping I am not the only one who has these feelings. Am I?

Last night I tried a homemade recipe and attempted in some voodoo which included writing a list, checking it twice, tearing it into little pieces, and finally letting it go up in flames. Or at least that was the plan. The first three parts came along grand and I had the proper candle selected too, which could hold the amount of paper and ashes. Unfortunately I had forgotten that you can only hold a tiny piece of paper for so long before it will burn your hand. I had also forgotten that when you drop it next to a wicker into hot wax, it may not crumble and die, but continue to burn even higher and turn the formerly innocent candle into a dangerous device.
Photographic proof of how I suck at voodoo. To keep my flat safe, I decided to flush the rest of the pieces down the toilet. I figured water can have equally destroying powers as fire and might be much safer to use. Guess what? Pieces were still floating the next morning. Ergo: I really suck at voodoo.

Though you will be happy to hear that even if my execution was a bit crude, it seems to work like a charm so far. Maybe I should include some safety tips and write an article for Cosmo. Or maybe it is simply time to see my shrink again.

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