not yet punditik

I am going to heaven in high heels.  In nice funky to-die-for [I can only die once hahahaha] heels.  Orange heels.  That’s my current colour.  Yet I have no orange heels.  Sad.  They may have splashes of other colours.  Awesome looking no pain orange heels.  As comfy as sneakers.  Stilettos or wedges, I really don’t care.  So long as I can kumbayah and walk the gold paved streets with no blisters. In heaven I will have a cavernous closet.  No fights with anyone, spouse included, about my encroaching clothes into their wardrobe space.  No collapsing clotheshorses burdened with 20 years of clothes. No shoes pilled higgledy piggledy at the bottom of every closet in the house.  No shoes soldier arrayed under my bed. There will be shoe racks with enough space for my single coloured, multicouloured, single soled, double soled, soft soled, no sole, slip on, tie up, muled, strapped, baby dolled, strappy, formal , clothe, plea...

I refuse to subscribe to the school of popular belief and action, reigning attitudes and stances.  Or rather, I intend not to subscribe to it.  Intention is the key word here.  Everyone thinks this.  Everyone is doing this.  They did it like this last time.  Uh huh!  That, I don’t do. It does not always work though – my intent.  It is usually strong, but sometimes I get caught up in the gang-ho and find myself prancing right in the middle of the crowd.  I just slip right in, without question or mental qualm.  And it is great fun.  And I really enjoy it.  Plus it’s safe.  Because I am with everyone else.  Warm and comfortable.  Nice and cuddly.  Wallowing in our unified kumbaya of thought and or deed.  But sometimes I say no.  Refuse to slide into the mire.  Of the crowd thought.  Which leaves me some options.  I can, one, choose to stand across the road instead, and wat...