Sore throat. Oops. That would be my horribly enthusiastic students turning up this week dripping with colds but determined not to miss their music lesson. I must give bonus points for enthusiasm but must gong every single parent for not realising that their darlings are contagious and that I earn my living by being well and able to sing for 5 hours a day.
In other news my brother has (so far) cast off certain manacles that masqueraded as freedom. Although I am pleased, I will wait to see if this little bid for freedom lasts out the week. You wanna kitchi-kitchi ya-ya, Mocha-choca latta...ahhh, the lures of fiscal 'security'. Rich slave or poor free man? Ideaology says one thing, but reality and habit quite another I'm afraid.
I struggle to feel for someone who has dug their own plush-lined ditch. A big part of me has a serious case of the 'told ya so's'...another big part of me is hurting for him. Not that he really deserves my sympathy. This is the man that will help everyone but me. This is the man who asks his family to believe in him but will not believe in us (except when the chips are down, and that's reasonably often). I'm trying not to be cold-hearted here but injustice weghs heavy on my reasoning.
This is the man who can wax lyrical about my talents and abilities but will still always give the job to someone else...anyone else. If I am used at all it is as an administrator (see shit-kicker). I would love this little 'penchant' of his to be real, but I doubt his will-power in the face of easy $$.
He actually said "Now I have this huge grand-piano...what am I going to do with it?"
PLEASE LISTEN TO YOURSELF.
I hope I am wrong. I hope my brother is not a whore. I hope he actually does have the strength to pull away. I miss him.
No comments:
Post a Comment