Wednesday, 8 April 2015


Pass me the tissues, Schneckens, I just watched Ghost.
For anyone who hasn't watched it or have a clue what I am on about, the film stars the late Patrick Swayze, who is murdered in a mugging gone wrong and partner, Demi Moore, has to face a new life without him. But that's not so easy when his ghost lingers on and only physic Whoopi Goldberg can hear him and save everyone from the trouble that is boiling.

I watched this film with my mother and it was a wonderful bonding experience between us both. I mean, how often do you witness your daughter weep Chandler Bing style over a film? Quite often if you watch a lot of films with said daughter. Anyway, it was lovely spending that time with her and there is no other person I would want to watch the film with than my mother!

For me, the film kinda shook me. Not in a drastic way. Heck, shook isn't even the right word. The thing is lately I have been dancing with wolves and I haven't really thought much about the consequences of it. Lately I have felt like I have been used, well, my femininity has been. At first I embraced it because I felt comfortable in my body for the first time ever, but I feel like this person just took it in his hands and is playing with it in more ways than can be said. I deserve a Patrick Swayze. Okay, I don't deserve a Patrick Swayze because he was a one of a kind that can never be replicated, but you get the point I'm trying to make. I'm willing to wait because just in Ghost, that moment when Demi Moore's character got to dance and be felt by him one last time shows that some moments are just worth waiting for, especially when its with someone who loves you unconditionally and well, ditto.

You crying yet, Ghost fans? Me too.

Toodles :)

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